Remembering Freedom
by 8ucky8arnes
Summary: It was only supposed to be a night out, Jemma thought. Just a night to herself in her flat where she could take a break from all the craziness that was S.H.I.E.L.D. Now here she was in a holding cell, her ankle shackled to the heavy metal bed frame and a hell of a bump on her head...
1. Welcome, Doctor Simmons

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote this about a year and a half ago and it was my first fanfic ever...so it might be a little rough. As far as the timeline goes, I put this story sometime after The Winter Soldier and Season 1 of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.**

It was only supposed to be a night out, Jemma thought. Just a night to herself in her flat where she could take a break from all the craziness that was S.H.I.E.L.D. Of course it was that night when HYDRA thought it necessary to blow open the door and knock her unconscious. Now here she was in a holding cell, her ankle shackled to the heavy metal bed frame and a hell of a bump on her head.

Looking at the metal holding her to the bed, she was disappointed to find no locking mechanism or anything that could help her remove it. She tested the strength, already knowing she'd never in a million years be strong enough to break it on her own. The sound of chains rattling must've alerted those guarding her because the door swung open, nearly blinding her as the light spilled into her once darkness filled cell.

"Doctor Jemma Simmons. Such a pleasure to meet you."

She flinched at the thick German accent and what that meant, but looked at him anyways. He was ordinary in appearance: mousy brown slicked back and dark brown eyes set in a somewhat small face. There was nothing in his eyes…and that scared her. She couldn't help but compare him to Ward right before he sent her and Fitz to the bottom of the ocean.

"You are probably wondering what you are doing here."

She stubbornly set her jaw, refusing to speak. Her hands were tightly clutching the thin sheets and her heart was pounding in her ears. Whatever the reason was, Jemma doubted it was anything remotely good.

He didn't seem perturbed by her lack of response. "Since Whitehall's untimely death, HYDRA has been having trouble finding an individual with a vast knowledge of human and alien biology. You my dear…have that knowledge."

"I'm not sharing any of that with you."

Suddenly a hand was gripping her chin and forcing her to look into those dead eyes. "I'm sorry to say you will have no choice in the matter that is…if you want to live." He smiled as he stood up. "I could always send you back to Coulson piece by piece. It would be a shame to mar that pretty face of yours."

She swallowed. She wasn't like May or the others. She couldn't hide away her emotions under a mask of indifference…she was only a lab rat, not trained to deal with torture. "What do I have to do?"

"We'll start you off with something simple." He said something in German to the man next to him and he quickly pulled out a black hood and forced it over her head.

She heard the sound of the shackle being unlocked and she was then pulled to her feet, which were bare at that time they took her. The concrete felt like ice as she was shoved down a long corridor and they made a few indiscernible turns before a door was opened and the hood was yanked off. Giving her eyes a few seconds to adjust the sudden brightness again, she took stock of the medical tools and the bed that was currently unoccupied.

"Your patient is on his way." He said before the door shut behind her.

Jemma fought the urge to curl into a ball. She was an S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and she wouldn't let them see her break down…at least not here. Digging around in one of the cupboards, she found medical booties and pulled on a few layers to cover her exposed feet. She was in the middle of sterilizing the tools when the door opened. Setting the instruments back into the sink, she turned around and had to use the counter to stand upright.

She'd heard the rumors of the Winter Soldier, the ghost assassin with a metal arm, throughout her years at S.H.I.E.L.D. before it fell, but she wasn't prepared to see him in the flesh. He was tall, nearly six feet, with a tangled mass of chin length black hair and dead blue eyes, a mask covering the rest of his face. She forced her eyes away from his when he dumped the body he had slung over his shoulder onto the bed, his metal arm gleaming in the bright light.

It was Ward. Even with his face beaten to a pulp, she recognized him. She quickly scanned him over and noticed the nonfatal gunshot wound to his shoulder. She looked up at the sound of mechanical whirling and saw the Winter Soldier leaving. She quickly noticed the injury to his flesh and blood shoulder, the wound itself looked like a bullet from a high caliber sniper rifle, a weapon that Ward favored. It was still oozing blood.

Without thinking she went to get a closer look at the injury and found herself pinned to the closed door, the metal hand closing around her throat. Those eyes held her for a moment before she choked out, "You're injured…let me look at it."

He dropped his hand and stepped back, those unnerving eyes following her as she slowly made her way over to the medical instruments and dragged over a stool. She pulled on gloves and motioned for him to come over. He was apprehensive, if his rigid stance was anything to go by.

"I do not need your help." His voice, muffled by the mask, was as flat as his eyes. "I will remove the bullet myself."

"The muscles in your shoulder are shredded and the bullet is probably imbedded in the bone. I don't think that's possible." She used her stern voice. "Please sit down so I can help." She wasn't sure why she was helping the assassin or offering to help in this case. She was prisoner in a HYDRA facility with their deadliest assassin and she was offering to stitch him up.

He removed the mask and his weaponry before taking off the one sleeved tactical gear and long sleeve shirt. He hardly flinched as blood ran down his bare back. He sat like a stone in the chair, the only sign that showed he was even breathing was the blood that steadily trickled from the wound.

Of their own accord, her eyes were pulled to what was once his left arm. Where the metal attached to his body was shiny pink scar tissue that looked as though the metal was fused to his body with extreme heat. She forced herself to focus on the more recent injury. She went for a syringe when his hand held her wrist in a tight grip.

"Remove the bullet." He let go of her hand when she nodded.

Grabbing the forceps, she tried to be gentle when she dug them into the flesh to retrieve the bullet. She was right. The bullet was imbedded in the fractured mess of his scapula and she tried to pull it out gently, but she stopped as the bones ground together. When he showed no indication that he felt the pain at all, Jemma wondered how much it took for him actually feel it at all. Finding the bullet again, she pulled, harder this time, and the bullet came free with a sickening suction sound. She set the forceps and the bullet down and turned to grab a bandage, but he was already on his feet and pulling his gear back on. He turned to look at her and she studied his sharp cheekbones and the shadow of stubble along his jaw. Paired with those eyes, it looked so familiar. Where had she seen him before?

Before she could say anything, he was gone. As the door shut, she heard movement from the bed. Ward was coming to. Quickly she noticed the restraints lying on table. They weren't there a second ago… Deciding it a good course of action, she cuffed his feet and good arm to the bed. Stripping off the used gloves, she threw them into the sink and pulled on another before she cut open his shirt to get a better look at the bullet wound.

His torso was a patchwork of bruises, probably courtesy of the Winter Soldier. She prodded along his ribcage, counting at least four cracked ribs. Reaching for a clean pair of forceps, she was none too gentle as she dug in and pulled the bullet out, eliciting a pained groan. He didn't deserve the luxury of painkillers… She was threading the needle when he finally spoke.

"It's nice to see a familiar face."

"I couldn't say the same." Without looking at his face, she started stitching the wound, ignoring the flinch as the needle pierced skin. She could feel his eyes on her and when she finally finished, she met his dark eyes. That moment before she was ejected from the Bus flashed through her mind. Those eyes were empty…they held nothing.

"You used to be nice Jemma."

She fought the urge to cringe when he said her name. "I changed." She placed the bandage over his shoulder, probably pressing down more than necessary when she taped it up. Walking away she picked up the bloody instruments, gloves, and the bullets, throwing them in the biohazard waste container.

"How long have you been here?"

She turned on the water, ignoring him. It wouldn't matter it she talked or not, he would eventually figure it out. He wasn't a Specialist for nothing. Drying off her hands, she walked over the door and opened it.

The man from earlier walked in with a smile. "Thank you Doctor Simmons. Take her back to her cell."

That hood was over her head again and she quickly found herself back in her cell, her ankle once again shackled to the bed frame. There was a bottle of water and sandwich waiting for her on the table. Feeling the lid of the bottle, she noticed it was sealed. No sedatives then. She took a sip and tasted only water. She waited a few minutes before drinking half the bottle and setting it down. She pushed the food away and laid down, trying to get comfortable.

The assassin's familiarity finally hit her. She remembered being in Coulson's office for debriefing and seeing the black and white photo on his desk. It was of Captain America and the Howling Commandoes. The man to the right of Captain Rogers, who had an arm slung over his broad shoulders with a roguish smile, was that familiar face. His hair was longer now and his eyes are devoid of the happiness in that photo, but the Winter Soldier was Steve Rogers' childhood friend, Bucky Barnes.

She tried to make sense of it all, but she had no science to explain how he was here when he should've died in 1945. Then she thought about it. She remembered Coulson telling the story of the Howling Commandoes with such gusto. She remembered the sadness in his tone as he told them how Bucky had been taken by Zola and that Captain Rogers had fought off hundreds of men just to reach him and how two years after, he fell from a train into the Alps and was presumed dead.

The only scenario that made some sense was that HYDRA had injected him with their own version of the super soldier serum because there was no other way he could've survived that fall and only lose an arm. That arm… The metal prosthetic that, while a beautiful work of craftsmanship, was a deadly weapon that had probably killed a lot of people. She remembered the line of scar tissue connecting it to his body and hoped that he wasn't awake when they fused it to him. The amount of pain that would cause…Jemma couldn't even imagine.

The door opened and she immediately sat up.

"How did you do it my dear?"

"How did I do what?" She played with a frayed edge of the blanket, not meeting his eyes. She was forced to look at him. This time, those dead eyes showed interest, of what she wasn't really sure. "You're going to have to be more specific."

"I want to know how were able to restrain the Asset long enough to pull the bullet out."

The Asset? That was what they called him? Probably best not to say she knew who he was. It might help later. "I didn't need to restrain him. He sat down and I pulled the bullet out. End of story."

"Yes, but how? We usually have to restrain him and he really doesn't like restraints."

"I used my stern voice." She sat back. "That's all I have to say on this matter."

He takes a seat at the end of the bed. "You know he killed the last doctor who tried to pull a bullet out? Snapped his neck…such a shame really." He looks at her throat and he had to notice the dark hand shaped bruise around her neck. "Why were you different?"

"Because I treated him like an actual human being." She remembered when she said she only wanted to help. There had been a slight break in that empty mask he always wore and she realized his reluctance to be injected was related to the cruel treatment that was probably done by the other 'doctors'.

"No matter." He waved a guard in and set food and another bottle of water on the table. "Eat up Doctor Simmons, you'll need your strength."

The door shut and she once again found herself in perpetual darkness.


	2. Mission Report

She'd been there a week and there was no sign of the team. It was discerning to say the least…but she couldn't give up the hope that they were trying. She just had to stay alive long enough for them to find her, which wouldn't be too hard given that all she was really doing for the time being was patch up their agents when they were injured.

She hadn't seen Barnes since her first night. She could recall a couple agents muttering about this really important mission that he was on, but could never get any more than that. She was tempted to ask Ward when he came in later that day, but she clamped her mouth shut, focusing on stitching a nasty slice across his ribs and removing the stitches from his gunshot wound. She wasn't that desperate for information…

"What's the question?"

She pulled out the last bit of stitching. "I don't have a question." She looked over the wound once more, making sure everything was completely healed.

"The Asset's in New York…in case you were wondering."

Deeming everything okay, she cleaned up the stitching and bandages before having him leave. New York? She thought as she peeled off her gloves and threw them in the biohazard container. Was HYDRA after Stark? No, they would need more than Barnes to get into Stark Tower. There was only one other person that lived in New York that could be so important to them: Captain America.

Steve Rogers would be no easy target. He was of equal strength to Barnes (at least she hoped) and if he knew the assassin was Bucky, he wouldn't kill him. He would try to reason with him, to pull his friend out of the weapon that HYDRA had created him to be. But HYDRA had had Barnes for over seventy years and the damage done to his psyche during all that time had probably almost completely erased the man he had been when he fell from the train.

A commotion from the hallway froze her. Jemma nearly jumped as her door was thrown open and the shackle was removed by one of the guards. It must be a serious problem if they didn't even bother with a hood, not like she could really get a good look as she was pulled down the maze of hallways at a speed she was struggling to maintain. She was surprised to find a vault of some kind instead of a medical room.

In the middle of the room, Barnes had just sat down. The chair he was in had a strange contraption attached to the back, two beams rising up and supporting a broken circle. She noticed the mass of plugs and wires coming out the contraption, trying to decipher what they were and what kind of machine this was. She wasn't Fitz, this machine made about as much sense to her as Skye's coding, which meant she knew nothing. Bucky was lying down, with loose restraints around his ankles and right arm. His torso was bare and Jemma knew from the doorway that multiple ribs were broken and that his right shoulder was probably dislocated. There were two doctors hovering over his left arm, which appeared to be damaged at a few points. Apparently the attempt on Captain America wasn't successful.

She was forced forward and given a pair of gloves to examine him. There was something off about him…it was his eyes. Those blue eyes that had held nothing the first time she saw them were now full of confusion, almost as if he didn't know where he was. She cautiously made her way over and she found those eyes watching her, his brow furrowed as he tried to remember something. She lightly ran her hands down his ribcage, slightly surprised to find that the ribs were only cracked, not broken.

His eyes were on her as she looked closer at his shoulder and deducing that the shoulder was indeed dislocated and had been for many hours. She couldn't pop it back in with his arm being restrained. She had just turned to address one of the guards when he started thrashing, sending on of the men working on his metal arm flying into the wall with a crunch.

She stumbled back as he pulled on his restraints and was quickly surrounded by half a dozen men with automatic weapons. One of the other doctors pulled her out of his reach. She watched his facial expression change from confused to confused and scared. He looked like a caged animal as his shoulders rose and fell with his rapid breathing, his fists clenched.

The door to the vault opened and in came the man with slicked back hair who she was now calling "The Doctor". She smiled inwardly at her own joke before realizing that this man was saying something important and that she should listen to him.

"Mission report."

Barnes gave no sign that he heard the man, only stared at Jemma, as though she could give him answers. He brought his breathing under control, slumping in the chair. It looked like he was struggling to remember something.

The man was standing in front of him now. "Mission report."

Barnes was still looking at her. She wanted to go to him, but then she remembered the man that had been thrown into the wall. Sparing a quick glance, she noticed an agent help him to his feet. Looked like she would be needed again… She jumped as the man backhanded Barnes across the face, his head whipping to the side.

"The man…" Barnes asked after a moment of silence, his brow furrowed. "Who was he?"

"You met him on another assignment." The response sounded rehearsed, almost as if the question had been asked before.

Jemma's heart broke for him. He looked so lost when his eyes met hers again. She wanted to help him, but with the armed agents and in his fragile state, she didn't know how she could.

"I knew him."

Doctor sighed and pulled up a chair, sitting in front of him. "This man is a threat to order and to the freedom that the world needs. You've done great work for us and we need to do it for us again."

A small smile, the first Jemma had seen from him, curled his lips. "But I knew him."

The Doctor sighed again, pushing the chair back. "Wipe him."

Before Jemma fully process the request, two agents pressed against his shoulders until he lay flat in the chair. She cringed as the dislocated shoulder banged against the metal. A mouth guard was placed between his teeth and she jumped slightly as thick metal restraints circled around his bicep and forearm and once around his metal arm. The two sides of the circle spun around until they were on either side of his head and Jemma watched, horrified as they began to crackle with electricity before they were pressed to his temples. She couldn't stop the choked cry she made as he began to scream. She pressed a hand to her mouth, struggling to keep the contents of her stomach from making an appearance as she was pulled from the room.

She'd always prided herself at staying strong in these situations, forcing herself into lab mode where nothing got to her, where she did everything with a clinical detachment. But each time she tried, his agonized screams would reach her ears and she accidentally pressed too hard on the wound to the technician's stomach. Her usually steady hands started to shake and she was reminded of the time she worked on Skye after Ian Quinn had shot her. Fitz had been there to hold her together, but now she had no one… She felt like she was falling apart at the seams.

It was only when the Doctor walked in did she realized that the screaming had stopped. Jemma forced away the trembling and straightened her shoulders. She wouldn't let this man see her weak.

"I can see you are concerned…that will fade. Bring him in."

You have a kind heart. Never forget that. Her Mum had told her this so many times and she had always found herself trying to see the good in people. It wasn't in her nature to hate. Ward had been one of the few people that she couldn't forgive…couldn't see past his cold eyes. Barnes was different though. She had seen the lost soul in those tortured blue eyes. You couldn't fake that kind of pain. No matter what this man told her, she would always be concerned for Barnes.

She forced herself not to react as Barnes stumbled in, clearly disoriented. She had the others lay him on the bed and looked at the still dislocated shoulder. It was bruising badly and Jemma was cautious as she leaned over him. She noticed the twitching muscles and the screams came mind. There was still electricity coursing through his body…

She gripped his wrist in one hand, where she could feel the erratic pulse beneath the skin. She wrapped another hand around his forearm, the muscles tight. "I'm going to start pulling slowly okay?" She said, knowing he wouldn't respond.

He was silent as she started leaning back. She inwardly cringed as she felt the bones grinding against each other. She froze when his entire body stiffened. She struggled to hold the arm where it was until he relaxed some. Those blue eyes were back to their deadness, all traces of the emotions from earlier gone. Swallowing, she slid her hand up his arm and wrapped her fingers around his bicep before slowly rotated his arm, the sweat-slicked skin making it hard for her to pop it back into place. Once it did, she immediately stepped back.

Barnes sat up without a grimace and rolled his shoulder a few times. He looked at her and she noticed his eyes narrow slightly as they slowly trailed down her body and Jemma couldn't stop the blush that stained her cheeks. Why was he looking at her like that?

"Soldier, I have your next mission."

"Reporting for mission, sir."

Jemma busied herself with cleaning up tools and such as Doctor handed Barnes a file. To her disappointment, they'd stopped speaking English and had switched to Russian. They didn't bother keeping their voices down, but Jemma snuck a peek at them as Barnes opened the file. The familiar Stark logo was followed by a quick flash of a redhead before it shut. Jemma went back to cleaning as she realized who the next target was: Stark Industries CEO, Virginia Potts.

Skye's slight obsession with Tony Stark had given Jemma a look into the life of the billionaire and his company. She gathered from all the press that Tony and 'Pepper' as he called her, have been scene at many an event together and it seemed he genuinely cared for her. Before everything went south, she remembered an article that said Tony was recovering from open heart surgery in an 'undisclosed location', which probably meant Stark Tower, leaving Ms. Potts to the more public social events…leaving her exposed. It would absolutely devastate Tony and Stark Industries would most certainly crumble if she were to be killed.

Without warning, Barnes had grabbed her arm with his metal hand and drug her down the hallway before shoving her back into her cell. She caught herself on the bed frame before she hit the concrete. She looked up as he shut the door and a chill went through her as she locked eyes with him briefly. It was like looking into an icy wasteland…they were empty.

She flinched as the door slammed, rubbing her arm where there would probably another hand shaped bruise come morning. She curled up on the cot, pulling the thin blankets around her as the events of the last hour came down on her at once. Had it really only been an hour? The failed mission…the frightened eyes and agonized screams…the new target…Barnes had been going through this hellish cycle for seventy years. Seventy years. Her hands started to tremble and she couldn't stop the tears. She cried for the hopelessness, the loneliness, and for the man who emotions and memories were erased as easily as she breathed.


	3. Malfunction

Jemma just wished something would happen. It had been five long, monotonous days since Barnes had left on his mission and she hadn't left her cell in that time, except for monitored showers and bathroom breaks. What she wouldn't give for a gunshot wound…or really anything that pulled her out of this dingy box. They had finally gotten rid of that bloody shackle though, which left Jemma pacing a rut into the concrete floor. She wasn't good at doing nothing, at standing still.

All it really did was give her time to think about everything. How her team was probably looking everywhere for her…how they probably assumed the worst had happened. May, Coulson, and the others would keep a calm head, but Skye and Fitz…she remembered their reactions when she had gone undercover at HYDRA. They were both young compared to the others…guess that made her young too.

Then there was the next mission target, Ms. Potts. Worry and guilt sat like a rock in her stomach the more she thought about it…and irritated her a bit. She was one of smartest individuals to come out of the Academy in years and she couldn't think of a single thing she could do. Sneaking out on her own wasn't an option, she was under guard constantly. They weren't dumb to leave access medication out, it was always prepped and ready before she got there. Her meager self-defense skills would probably hold up against a fellow scientist or two, but where the advantage be in that? HYDRA had no problem with finding replacements.

She was about to start pacing again when the door swung open. It was another faceless guard and she again noticed they didn't put the hood on. Did they really trust her so soon…or did they just not care? It was probably the latter, she thought as she was once again walked into the medical room.

She was surprised to find Barnes already waiting for her. The agents left the room to stand on the other side of the door. She ran her eyes down his body, but there wasn't any visible injury. She asked him to remove his gear and he did so swiftly. No bruising or fracturing and the gunshot wound to his shoulder was completely healed over with minimal scarring. His temperature was normal, his pulse steady. She quickly ran an eye down the metal arm, but there didn't appear to be any dents or scorch marks.

"Soldier," She inwardly cringed at using the 'name' they gave him, but she couldn't exactly call him Bucky Barnes. Who knew how he would react? "Why are you here?"

"I'm malfunctioning."

"I see no visible injuries and your…arm appears to be in working order." She went to stand in front of him and that's when she saw his eyes.

The dark blue depths held that same confusion before he'd been 'wiped'. He was looking at her as though she had all the answers. He looked down at his hands, dark brown hair falling in his eyes. "I'm malfunctioning." He repeated, this time more forcefully, those eyes drilling holes into her.

"Okay." She held her hands up, removing the gloves and setting them on the table. "What's malfunctioning?"

His eyebrows drew together and drew a breath, those eyes never leaving hers. "He was short…like you." He tensed, as if preparing himself for a strike.

"Who was short?" She pulled a stool to where he was seated on the edge of the bed and sat across from him. He appeared surprised that she wasn't calling one of the other agents or even the Doctor in. She watched him open his mouth and close it, as if unsure. "You can tell me."

"The man…the man on the bridge." He looked at her for a moment. "He used to be shorter…and now he's tall."

Jemma didn't know how to respond. She knew pre-serum Steve Rogers had been around her height and probably weighed even less before Project Rebirth. How was she supposed to explain that to him when he couldn't even remember his own name? She could see the signs of sleeplessness in the shadows under his eyes and the fatigued set of his shoulders. When was the last time he had slept? "Do you know his name?"

He didn't appear to hear her. "He told me…he told me I was his friend. He said my name is James Buchanan Barnes…but I don't have a name." He looked up at her. "Who is James?"

Her response was cut off as the Doctor came in. She watched the change come over Barnes. The emotions retreated inwards and a moment later she was looking into nothing again. Getting off the stool, she moved it out of the way so the Doctor could stand in front of him.

"Mission report."

"Mission was a success. Target was terminated."

The worry in her stomach was quickly overcome with guilt and she fought the urge to shake her head. No. Virginia Potts was dead. A brilliant woman was dead and her killer was feet away. Jemma should be angry…she should be upset, but really what could she do? She couldn't be angry at Barnes. He was only a weapon to them, a gun they could point at an 'enemy' and shoot. The real killer was the Doctor, but the Doctor controlled Barnes. He could order Barnes to kill her and he would do it without a second thought.

"Doctor Simmons?"

She dried her hands with a rag and turned around, hoping the hate wasn't clearly expressed. "Yes?"

"Any injuries to report?"

"No injuries" She set the rag down. "But if I could make a suggestion?" If she didn't know any better, she could've sworn she saw a sliver of fear pass through Barnes' eyes.

"What is it my dear?"

"Allow him some time to rest. Sleep deprivation can affect his work." She saw the relief from Barnes and she gave him a small smile while the Doctor contemplated her request. Barnes was hopefully looking at her in a different light and she didn't regret lying to the Doctor. If encouraging him to talk about his memories was the only she could help, then she was going to do it, regardless of what it cost her.

"You say it'll affect his work?"

"Sleep deprivation causes hallucinations, decreased motor functions, and violent outbursts. For any normal person, it would be bad, but for him…it would be deadly. He could jeopardize the missions and could mistake friend from foe. He could kill you just as easily as he kills the targets." That seemed to drive it home as he nodded.

"Very well. Soldier, return Dr. Simmons to her cell."

Taking her roughly by the arm again, Barnes walked her back to her cell. Instead of opening the door, he caged her against the door with his arms. In the dimness of the hallway, his blue eyes were nearly black and they were doing that look-right-through-her thing.

"Why?" He rasped out.

She swallowed. "I want to help you Jam…I mean Solider." Her brain to mouth filter had seemed to stop working at the worst possible time. It was too late to catch herself and he noticed because he stepped closer, leaning down until their faces were inches apart.

"What did you call me?"

"I didn't…I-"

"What did you call me?" His voice had gone flat again and cool metal wrapped around her throat once more. "Tell me."

"James." She croaked out. "I called you James."

"The man on the bridge called me James…do you know the man on the bridge?"

"I know of him…we haven't had the pleasure of meeting."

"Who is James?" His voice was getting frantic. "Tell me who James is!"

"You are James. You are James Buchanan Barnes." She breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped away, but watched his face. "Your name is not Soldier or Asset…its James."

"The man…what's his name?" He was looking at his metal hand as if it wasn't his. He moved his fingers then bent his wrist, each movement causing a whirling noise.

Jemma froze as the metal hand lightly touched the bruise around her bicep. "His name is Steve…Steve Rogers." She stiffened as the hand stopped moving. He seemed to be working through something and she was about to step back when he spoke.

"Guess the punk made it after all." He didn't seem to realize the sentence had slipped out of his mouth, the Brooklyn accent of his youth bleeding into the words. He looked back at her and it was as though he was a different person, his eyes widening. "What did I just say?"

"Something James would've said."

He took a step back, shaking his head. "I'm not James…I can't be James. I'm Soldier."

She took his flesh and blood hand in her own, the skin rough and warm in hers. It was shaking and she ran her fingers lightly over his knuckles. This was the hand of an assassin…of a soldier who's destroyed countless lives with a pull of a trigger, but he was also a man. A man who by all intents and purposes should be dead. He didn't ask to be this way…The shaking stopped as she squeezed his hand. "Your name is James."

A switch flipped in him and he shoved her into the wall, his metal arm against her neck. His pupils were blown wide, the blue almost completely gone. He was speaking to her in what she was assuming was Russian, his arm slowly cutting off the oxygen.

Jemma was at a loss. She was running out of air and she didn't know what to do. Saying anything might cause him to start blindly killing anyone around him or himself. So she decided not to say anything, hoping she could hold her breath long enough. Her vision was nearly black when she felt the pressure drop and her body slumped to the ground as she gasped for air. She blinked, trying to clear her vision. When she finally did, he was already halfway down the hall, his voice alternating between English and Russian.

When she managed to pull herself upright, he had already been gone for a few minutes. She could guess by the lack of gunfire or alarms that he hadn't completely lost it…yet. Ignoring the voice that was telling her to go back to her cell, she went the same direction as Barnes.

She was surprised to find so little guards and wondered what time it really was. It felt really late though…Did they have Barnes patrol instead of sleep? She peeked around the corner when she heard a metallic bang a few doors down. She stepped into the hallway, trying to keep her footsteps as silent as possible as she cracked open the first door, finding nothing. She opened the next door with the same result. It was when she approached the next door that she was cautious.

Even with none of the lights turned on, Jemma knew it was the vault. She would recognize the broken circle above that horrible machine anywhere. There was a metallic glint as she opened the door and she waited a moment before stepping into the room and turning on the lights.

James was pacing the length of the room, like a caged animal, his fingers pulling at his hair. He was muttering under his breath, his eyes wide and blue again. He didn't seem to notice her arrival or the lights turning on.

She slowly made her way towards her, trying to decipher what he was muttering. Taking her eyes off of him for a moment, she spared a moment to look at the chair. Like his arm, it was well crafted, but deadly. It was like an extreme version of electroshock therapy, only instead of helping a patient, they were creating one. She looked closer at the cluster of wires on the back of the chair. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed he was still pacing. Before she could tell herself it was a bad idea, she knelt down and quickly unplugged and re-plugged a handful of wires. As she stood up, she caught a snippet of words of English.

"Sergeant James Barnes…32557038." His eyes kept looking at the chair and Jemma didn't miss the fear in his expression. He was clenching his metal hand so tightly the metal groaned. "Sergeant James Barnes…32557038."

It took her too long to figure out what the series of numbers were: his service number. A soldier, when tortured or interrogated, would repeat their rank, name, and service number on repeat to protect whatever knowledge he had that the captures wanted. It was like he was in a daze, almost like sleepwalking and Jemma was afraid to touch him again. She'd already set him off once. She didn't want a repeat. She didn't think her throat could take it.

"Sergeant Barnes…32557038." Without warning, his metal hand met the wall with a bang that caused sparks. It was then that he finally noticed she was there. He didn't make a move toward her. He only stared at her with those haunting blue eyes.

"James?" She forced her voice to remain calm. "James…what's going on?"

He only stared at her for a moment before shaking his head and continuing his repetition, this time in Russian. He starting pacing again.

She took a step forward, mindful of his metal appendage. The muscles of his right arm were tense, the knuckles white. Deciding his actual name wasn't getting through to him, she tried his given name. "Soldier, tell me what's wrong?" If anything, the use of the name only brought to mind the chair and he immediately walked to the other side of the room, his back to the contraption.

"Sergeant...3255703..."

"Sergeant Barnes…are you okay?"

He turned to her, his dark eyes full of confusion as he walked over to stand in front on her. His right hand reached out and took a strand of her dark brown hair between his fingers, his eyes narrowed slightly. "Peggy?"

Jemma was stunned…and frankly a bit honored that she reminded him of Agent Peggy Carter, cofounder of S.H.I.E.L.D alongside Howard Stark. It was probably the accent...that had to be it. "No, my name is Jemma…Jemma Simmons."

He stepped back, giving Jemma room to breathe. He blinked several times, seeming to return from the daze he was in. His expression reverted into what she called "Winter Mode" before grabbing her arm with his right hand and dragging her back down the hall.

Jemma didn't say anything, just let herself be put back in her cell. She waited until the door shut to watch out the small window as he walked down the hall and disappeared around the corner. She slid into bed, pulling the sheets around her. She stared at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. She couldn't get those eyes out of her head. They were so haunted…so broken. Maybe eyes really were windows to the soul…


	4. Send a Message

Jemma woke to the sound of screams and she wished they weren't familiar. They had put Barnes back in that damn machine, wiping away the progress she had made with him if you could call that progress that is. She tried putting the pillows over her ears, but nothing could block them out. Silent tears made their way down her cheeks and she didn't bother to wipe them away.

The screams went on for nearly an hour before they stopped and it was then that they pulled her from her cell. She tried to wipe the tears away with the back of her free hand. The site that awaited her nearly brought them back.

He was as disoriented as ever, his eyes half open as he was laid down on the bed. His chest rose and fell with shuddering breaths as the electricity coursed through his body, the muscles jumping beneath the skin. His lips were moving, but the words were silent…

"What am I supposed to do?"

One of the agents who brought him in sighed in frustration. "We need him in working order as soon as possible. Do whatever needs to be done."

Working order…like a bloody machine. That's all he was to these people and she told herself she shouldn't be surprised because this was HYDRA and they weren't known for having a conscious. She nodded. "I will see to it."

What did they think she could do to help? Electrocution at this massive a scale would've killed anyone else within seconds. He'd gone through it for nearly an hour. Who knows the damage that was done to him? Super soldier serum or not, she wasn't sure how much could really be repaired.

Leaning down she press the back of her hand to his flushed face, surprised by the heat radiating from his skin. Finding a thermometer, her suspicions were confirmed when his temperature read 103.1°. She immediately started removing the long-sleeved shirt he wore and she was horrified to find his chest and abdomen littered with bruises. Once the shirt was gone and satisfied that nothing was broken, she started unlacing the boots, followed by the socks.

Digging through the cabinets, she found a sponge and filled a metal tin with lukewarm water. She started at his forehead, the water running into his already damp hair. She ran the sponge down his neck, his pulse rapid beneath his fingers. Cleaning the sponge, she started on his chest, being gentle around the bruising. She'd seen bruising like this when agents had taken a beating, but there hadn't been defensive wounds. He hadn't fought back…

"I'm so sorry James." She whispered as she pressed the sponge to his forehead again. The muscles had stopped shuddering, thank God. "This shouldn't have happened…I shouldn't have pushed you to remember." Cleaning the sponge again, she ran it down his neck, being gentler as she reached the bruising on his chest and stomach.

"Not your fault, doll." Came a croaked reply and Jemma nearly dropped the sponge.

Jemma smiled at the old-fashioned endearment, putting the sponge back into the tin and grabbing a towel. She helped him dry off before helping him sit up. She let him put his clothes back on and when she went to check his vitals, he grabbed her wrist with his right hand, his expression stoic.

"What did you do to the Wiper?"

"I…" She knew she was a horrible liar and she knew he would see right through it. "I switched some wires, pulled a few. I hoped it would somehow lessen the effect."

"Why would you do that?" He eyed the fresh bruises on her neck and arm. He frowned. "I hurt you."

"Because I want to help you. Did it work? I had to make an educated guess since I'm not actually familiar with that thing." His hand was still wrapped around her wrist and her skin tingled from the contact, but she didn't pull away.

"It hurt more, but…" His gaze drifted to the side, brows furrowing. "I remember…I remember the man on the bridge…Steve. His name is Steve." That small crooked smile was on his face again.

"I'm glad I could help…but maybe it's best not to let anyone know." Finally letting go of her wrist, she waited for him to respond. In the silence, she poured out the now cold water and wrung out the sponge before throwing the towel it what she guessed had to be a hamper of some kind. "James?"

That smile was back, if only for a moment. "Ma was the only one who called me James…" He looked down at his hands for a moment. Running his hand through his damp hair, he turned to her. "Thank you, Jemma."

The way her name rolled off his tongue in that Brooklyn accent had her pulse skyrocketing and she found herself at loss for words. She just stared at him, watching James' face as the agents came back in. Jemma was saddened to see James retreat into "Winter Mode". It honestly scared her how easily he seemed to school his emotions into that blank look. To him, it was like flipping a switch. She stepped back as "The Doctor" came in.

"Soldier gear up. You'll be leaving in an hour's time." Just as quickly as he came in, he left. Followed by the guards and James. "Agent Cole, take Dr. Simmons to her cell."

Apparently, everyone found it necessary to grab her arm and pull her down the hall. Her bruises were going to have bruises at this point…She sat down on the bed, rubbing her wrist, remembering the heat that had passed between his hand and her skin. She shook her head. It had to be the fever, it just had to be…

….

It had been almost another week before James returned and for Jemma to lose the slightest hope that Coulson would ever find her. Well, if they couldn't find her then maybe she would just have to find a way out herself. She shook her head, she wouldn't get out of here on her own. It would be a suicide mission. She'd rather stay alive in her cell…plus she couldn't leave James. Not now, after helping him with his memories. Of course, she hadn't actually seen him since then, but she couldn't leave him, not after all he'd been through.

She was just about to drift off when the door opened slowly. When the person didn't speak, she forced herself to stay calm. There had to be a reason…a good reason someone would walk into her cell quietly…scratch that. There wasn't a good reason.

"I know you're awake Jemma."

She jumped when the voice came from the head of her bed instead of the doorway, nearly falling off in the process. Over the sound of her muttered curses, Jemma could've sworn she heard a laugh. She untangled herself from the sheets. "You could have just told me it was you, you bloody idiot."

"And miss your reaction? Not likely doll." He was standing next to her bed, the glint of his arm giving him away as the dim light flickered in the hallway.

"Glad to see I amuse you." Even adjusted to the darkness, her eyes couldn't make out his features. It was almost as though he himself was a shadow. She wrapped the sheets around herself. "I'm sure you have other reasons for this late night visit."

"I remember somethin'."

"What do you remember?"

"I remember pain…the sound of a saw." He looked down at the metal arm. "A drill."

Jemma felt nausea overcome her. He had been awake for the whole thing. The only reason they would need a saw is to remove whatever was left of his left arm. She remembered the extensive scar tissue around the metal and how quickly his other wounds healed. How much damage was there to leave that much behind? She swallowed. "What else?"

The mattress dipped below it his weight. "It was cold…like ice."

This close, she could finally make out his face. His eyes were focused on something far away, his right hand occasionally running over the chromed metal plating of his left. She wanted to ask what was cold, but he seemed so out of it. She didn't want to push him again, but she found herself placing a hand on the arm closest to her, the muscles tensing. He didn't pull away though.

"Why are you so kind?" He looked down at her hand. "You don't know half the things I've…hell, I don't even know the things I've done."

"That wasn't you James…that was the Winter Soldier."

"The Winter Soldier…he's a part of me Jemma. Whether you like it or not, I'm a killer. I'm not someone who can be fixed or saved." And with that, he pulled away and left as quietly as he came.

…..

The next two days were a whirlwind of activity, at least that's what Jemma noticed outside her door. Something big was going down and from the looks of it, it looked like they're preparing for an army to attack. Weapons were being carted in and distributed, which probably meant James was out on a mission…

When James walked in with his cold face, Jemma knew something was wrong. The guards shut the door behind him, their looks almost smug. He just stood there, his eyes watching her every movement.

"What's going on?" She stepped back. "Just tell me."

He glanced over at the door, then looked back at her. "I have to do this Jemma."

"What do you have to do?" She felt the wall at her back. "James…"

"Your team…they're trying to hack into our system. Doctor Volkov wants to send them a message." His metal hand was closing around her throat and would probably leave a fresh necklace of bruising. "He wants me to hurt you, to show your team the consequences of messing with HYDRA."

"Do it then." Jemma held her head high, trying and probably failing to look unafraid. His face was unreadable, but she knew he was conflicted. He didn't want to hurt her, but his handlers didn't seem to share that concern. They wouldn't be happy with him if he refused. "It's okay James."

She was only slightly surprised by the backhanded blow from his metal hand that sent her to the ground and she felt blood immediately rush to the surface. The room was spinning and she felt blood dripping from her lip. A flesh and blood hand pulled her up by the hair and threw her into the bed frame, her shoulder catching the corner. She couldn't stop the cry of pain as his booted foot slammed into her ribcage with enough force to send her slamming into the wall. Then the hits stopped and she felt herself being dragged to her feet. Through her blurry vision, she saw James looking at her, his eyes full of guilt.

She was led into a room with a bunch of monitors set up, the light causing the pounding in her head to worsen. Shoved into a chair, she bit down on her lip as her ribs protested. Her hands were tied to the arms of the chair while her ankles were tied to the legs tight enough to cut off circulation. Two agents stood on either side of her or the man that she now knew as Doctor Volkov crouched in front of her, examining James' handiwork.

"Such a shame to mark up such a pretty face." He smiled. "Oh well. Let's say hello to our friends at S.H.I.E.L.D." Walking over to a keyboard, he typed something and an image flickered to life. "Greetings Director Coulson. So nice to finally meet you."

Jemma watched the teams' faces when they realized it was her, watched Coulson and May's ever stoic expressions crack. Watched Hunter storm off with Bobbi close behind. And Mack holding back Fitz and Skye as tears streamed down their faces and they screamed in anger. She let the tears fall as she watched her team crumble. This is what HYDRA wanted, to watch what was left of S.H.I.E.L.D. collapse. The visual cut off for a moment, but she watched Skye being sedated and taken from the room by Mack.

"She is no threat to you." Coulson's voice was barely restrained. "Let her go."

Jemma tried to pull away as Volkov ran his fingers along her neck. "Doctor Simmons is a valuable asset to S.H.I.E.L.D. This makes her a threat to HYDRA, which assures I won't be letting her go until she's dead."

May's dark eyes were full of unbridled fury. "We will find you…" A cold smile curled her lips. "And I will take pleasure in killing you."

"Your words mean nothing Calvary." Volkov smiled back. "Sie können sie nicht retten." He turned and flipped the switch, cutting off the video feed. "It nice to see your team cares. Have the Asset take her back to her cell."

The agents untied her and a familiar coolness of metal wrapped around her arm as he walked her back to her cell, but she didn't even make halfway before her world started tilting and she stumbled, his hand the only thing keeping her on her feet. She felt him pick her up like she was a child and cradle her against his warm chest. She sighed, laying her head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry Jemma."

His voice was the last thing she heard before giving in to unconsciousness.


	5. Anna Snow

**WARNING: If you've noticed I've changed the rating. This chapter contains detailed medical procedures.**

Everything hurt. Jemma was glad her cell was dark because the pounding in her head wouldn't withstand any light. She knew she probably had a concussion, but given that they just let her sleep instead of check up on her, they obviously weren't too concerned for her health. Even breathing hurt. Running a hand along her ribs, there wasn't anything broken, but there were a few fractures. Her left shoulder was one big knot, the muscles not allowing her to rotate or move her arm at all. She felt the right side of her face. Jemma knew she had a black eye and split lip and that the bruising probably covered the whole side of her face.

She knew it could've been worse…that James had held back as not to horribly injure her. He could've done more than fracture a few ribs and give her a black eye, but he didn't. She would heal from these with time.

After a few minutes, she managed to get into a sitting position. What had happened after Volkov cut the feed? She didn't think she would ever forget their expressions when they saw her beaten and tied up. Jemma could feel the tears building in her eyes…she wasn't sure how much longer she could take being here. She couldn't even cry without her body sending sharp pains through her chest. The dim lights flickered on, but she didn't hear anyone come in until the mattress dipped and a hand brushed lightly over the bruises.

"I'm so sorry…you know I didn't want to."

She looked over at James and saw the look in his eyes. They were full of so much pain and guilt. She knew how he had been raised with the 1940s mindset and hitting a defenseless woman was something he had been told never to do. She laid a hand on his shoulder, the metal cool against her skin. "I will heal James…I'll be okay."

"I heard you crying Jemma." He looked down at her hand. "You're not okay."

"I'm not made of glass James."

"But you're not invincible." He helped her to her feet, cringing as she stumbled. "Let me see your ribs."

"I checked them. I'm fine." She frowned at his raised eyebrow. "Seriously." Of course, when she tried to fold her arms across her chest, she gasped as her left shoulder refused to cooperate. "Fine. You'll have to take my shirt off though, my shoulder can't go that high."

Holding her arms out as far as they would go, James went to stand behind her. Lifting the hem between his fingers, he was gentle as he pulled the shirt up and off, leaving her in a plain black bra. His sharp intake of breath was his only reaction.

Jemma felt exposed with this much skin on display, some of which was bruised by him. She couldn't stop the blush from coming to her face or crawl down her neck. The cold metal felt heavenly on her bruised shoulder, but anything more than a gentle press had her biting her lip.

He noticed her reaction and took his hand away, instead coming around to see her ribcage. In the dim lighting, the bruising was finally noticeable to Jemma. She didn't realize how skinny she'd gotten until she noticed that her ribs were slightly visible beneath the skin. She forced herself not to jump when his flesh and blood hand ran lightly along each side of her ribcage. She forced herself to watch his expression, trying to ignore the warmth that followed his touch.

His lips were pressed into a thin line, his eyebrows drawn together. He was trying to keep his gaze clinical, but Jemma saw the guilt within the icy depths. He blamed himself and there would be nothing she could say that would convince him otherwise. He helped her with putting her shirt back on, his hands gliding down her sides until they settled on her hips for a short moment before he stepped back, those eyes cold once again. "I'll go get you some Ibuprofen."

Before Jemma could even respond, he was gone. Her skin still warm from his touch and blood was pounding in her ears. Bloody hell! This wasn't the time to develop feelings for him, nor the place. She shouldn't care for him…she shouldn't respond to his touch like this. Yet she did and she had no idea how to push them to the back of her mind. She was still standing when James came back with a cup of water and a bottle of Ibuprofen.

He didn't say anything, only dumping three pills onto her palm and handing her the cup once she set them on her tongue. He watched her swallow the pills and took the glass back, ready to turn and leave.

"James wait." She went to grab his arm, forgetting how off-kilter she was. The light from the hallway made the pounding in her head worse and she stumbled as nausea washed over her, the ground rushing up to meet her and she prepared for impact. It never came as she felt two hands circle her waist and pull her upright into a hard chest. She grabbed onto the straps of his tactical vest, noticing how his entire body went as still as a statue.

He stared down at her, those damn eyes staring straight through her. His hands were still on her waist, holding her place. He radiated heat off of him like a furnace. Must be a benefit of the serum…

She couldn't move, not like he'd let her. The hands, both cold and warm, could be felt through her shirt and she tried to steady her breathing. The scent of leather, metal, and gunpowder washed over her, doing little for her breathing and she stared up at him. The only sound she could hear over her pounding heart was the constant whirling and humming coming from his arm.

He finally moved, his hands falling from her waist and steering her back to her bed. A moment later there was a knock on the door and one of the guards said something in Russian. James' head snapped up and he turned, replying curtly in the same language. At her questioning look, he spoke quietly to her in English. "They asked if you were still asleep and I told them yes."

Jemma took that as her cue to quietly slip back into the bed. She looked up at him again and whispered. "Thank you."

"Get some sleep Jemma."

….

It didn't feel like she was asleep for very long before the door once again opened. This time it was Volkov who entered. Jemma sat up as quickly as she could. The pain, while still numb from the Ibuprofen, could be felt as she pushed herself up. She tried not to notice how he seemed to find the whole thing amusing.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. is so predictable." He chuckled. "Threatening the life of one lab rat causes them to crumble." He hauled her to her feet, the smile he sent her not reaching his eyes. "Come on my dear. We have something important for you."

The light in the hallway seemed brighter as Jemma was led to a medical room, where, restrained to the bed, was a young woman no older than herself with white blonde hair and milky lavender eyes. Despite the tight restraints and numerous machine hooked up to her, Jemma noticed that the woman didn't struggle or seem scared at all. In fact, when her head turned to face Jemma, she actually smiled.

"Who is this?" Jemma couldn't shake the feeling of those blind eyes on her. Something was very wrong here…

"This is Anna Snow, otherwise known as Asset 327. She has the power of premonition. We need you to find out what makes her tick."

Jemma looked down at the young woman. She recalled how Whitehall's 'exploration' had ended up with Skye's mother being cut to pieces and left in a ditch. She turned to Volkov. "What if I say no?"

The answer was James' agonized screams through the thin walls. Jemma only knew one thing that could elect that sound from him…

Volkov smiled at her horrified expression. "I figured since you seem to care so much for the…Soldier, that he would be a good incentive for you. Do this for me or he suffers."

"I can't do what you're asking…" She flinched as he cried out. She shook her head. "I can't do this to another human being. Don't make me."

Volkov said something into his comms and a second later two shots rang out, each one followed by a pained gasp. There was a moment of silence before the screaming started up again.

"Please stop…" Another shot. More screaming. "I'll do it…just please stop. I'll do it. I'll do it. Just stop it please."

"Good girl." The screaming didn't stop. "When you're done, you can treat the Soldier."

She waited until the door closed to let the tears start. Gripping the sink, she tried to block out his screams. Even at the expense of his pain, she couldn't cut up this woman. She walked over to the table of instruments: scalpel, forceps, clamps…a bone saw. Oh God,…they wanted her to remove Anna's brain. Her hand hovered over the instruments, but she couldn't get herself to pick any of them up. Her hesitation cost her though when his screams worsened. "I can't…I'm sorry James. I'm so sorry…"

"He will not forget himself." Anna's voice was very light but held a very strong power. "He will not forget you."

Jemma used to hold no stock in psychics or any other 'mystical' power, but with everything that's happened in the last few years, she found that there are things that cannot be explained by science and facts. This woman, Anna, was one of those things. "Why aren't you more afraid?"

Anna smiled. "I have known how I was going to die for quite some time. I do not fear it."

"They want me to…cut you up. I don't think I can do that." The screams had stopped and Jemma could hear gruff voices speaking in Russian, followed by James' growled reply. Apparently, they didn't like what he said because the screaming started again, this time steadily growing louder. "I wish I knew what they were saying…"

"They wanted him to…harm you. He refused."

Jemma jumped as more shots sounded. Three. Four. "I'm sorry Anna."

"You care for him…I do not blame you." Anna closed her eyes. "He is lost Jemma…lost in his past. You must help him remember what it's like to be a man again. To be a hero."

Jemma walked over to the medicine cabinet and started digging through the vials. With a somber feeling, she found the one labeled Pentobarbitone and set it on the counter before removing a new needle from its plastic packaging. "I'm supposed to save lives, not take them." Her hand shook as she filled the needle. "I don't want to do this." She nearly dropped the vial as the sixth shot combined with the screaming.

"You have a kind heart." Anna echoed her Mum's words. "I know you will make it painless."

Jemma nodded, tears in her eyes. "Pentobarbitone…it will be like going to sleep."

Anna smiled. "That is a greater mercy than they would've ever shown me. I remember the moment my death changed. At first, it was painful and drawn out, but then I saw your face. You will give me a peaceful death and I thank you for that."

"Will HYDRA get what they're looking for?"

"What they seek doesn't reside in my body. My power comes from my spirit and they can never take that from me." She laid back, her eyes closed. "These people that have been holding you…they won't be a problem much longer. You will make it back to your team."

Jemma slowly inserted the needle into her arm and pressed down the plunger. In only thirty seconds, it took effect as Anna's body went slack, the heart monitor flat-lining as she drew her last breath… Jemma fought the urge to collapse and instead unplugged the machines so the noise would stop. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she found the electric shaver and began the process of removing the beautiful blonde hair. After sweeping the hair up and throwing it away, she pulled on gloves and a mask and picked up the scalpel. She wasn't entirely sure how she kept her hands steady enough to peel the scalp away from the cranium and turn the saw on. She forced herself not to look her face. If she did, she would fall apart. Propping the head up, she started the process of cutting open the skull. The sound of the saw blocked out the screaming. Jemma wasn't sure which one she would rather hear…

Setting down the piece of the skull, she once again picked up the scalpel and gently cut through the three meninges surrounding the fragile tissue. Being as careful as she could, she reached in and cut the brain stem. Jemma placed the brain in one of the tins and found that Volkov had graciously provided a large jar full of formaldehyde. Twisting off the lid off the jar, she picked up the brain and placed it in the liquid.

She had hardly twisted the lid on before agents came in and rolled the bed and instrument table away, taking away what was once Anna Snow and going to dump it like trash. Jemma hardly had time to be angry before they rolled another bed into the room.

If it wasn't for the serum, James wouldn't be alive now. She counted five gunshot wounds, three on the right side and two on the left. He was restrained to the bed with those similar to that of the Wiper, his right wrist bloodied as he struggled. His sweat-slicked skin was covered in bruises and healing burns. His eyes were glazed over, lips silently forming words.

"Thank you for your compliance," Volkov said before taking the jar and leaving the room.

Quickly removing the mask and gloves, she brushed damp strands of dark hair from his face. "Oh, James…what have they done to you?" Pulling on a new pair of gloves, she grabbed a pair of forceps and removed the first bullet from his body. Quickly stitching up the wound, she started on the next one.

He was murmuring something in Russian.

"James?" She finished the stitches. "James, can you hear me?"

He pulled against the restraints, the Russian becoming more jumbled.

His struggling caused the remaining gunshot wounds to start bleeding and Jemma quickly resumed the task of removing the bullets and stitching them up before he lost any more blood. He was still muttering in Russian, his voice hoarse from the screaming.

Cleaning around the stitches, she started with running a cool washcloth over his flushed skin. She could feel his broken ribs as she went over his chest, the tears starting anew. Was this going to be her life now? Would she constantly be cutting up those that HYDRA saw as beneficial while James was being tortured in the next room? Setting down the washcloth, she pulled up a stool and sat on his right side. She took his hand and squeezed lightly as to not set him off.

He had stopped pulling on the restraints and his eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling steadily almost as if he were asleep. His face looked peaceful and for a moment he looked young like he hadn't been tortured about an hour before.

Jemma took this moment to really look at him. He really was handsome though and not like 'Captain America' handsome, but more a rugged bad boy way. Jemma would admit that she'd always leaned more towards them growing up and he was the definition of bad. With his dark hair, sharp jawline, and killer blue eyes; Jemma could definitely see why he was such a lady's man back in the 40s. Even now, with shadows under his closed eyes and the healing bruises on his jaw, she could see it.

She went to pull away but found he had an iron grip on her hand. She was going to say something, but it looked like he was still asleep and Jemma didn't want to wake him. She wanted him to stay like this, oblivious to the world around him. She brushed the hair away from his face, her fingers lightly trailing down his cheek. "It's not fair that you get punished for my disobedience. Anna said you wouldn't forget yourself and I…I hope she was right. I hope you remember who you are. That way you can leave all of this behind...be the man you were before they took you."

"I'll never be able to leave this." His eyes were coherent and clear as he looked up at her. "They'll kill me before they let me go." He looked at their hands, his brow furrowed. He must've noticed her puffy eyes because he grew concerned. "Jemma, what did they make you do?"

Jemma shook her hand, cursing the tears that were building in her eyes.

"Tell me." His voice left no room for argument.

"Anna…she was an Asset." She noticed him flinch at the word. "She could…she could predict the future. They told me to find out…what made her…tick." She swallowed thickly, the tears finally streaming freely down her cheeks. "They…had me remove...they had me remove her brain."

His eyes darkened in anger and he growled something inaudible. Realizing he was nearly crushing her hand, he let it go. "Next time, they ask you to do anything like that, say no."

"But James…"

"Jemma, I can take what they can dish out." The smile he gave her didn't reach his eyes. "Besides, I'm too important to be killed just yet. You don't need any more blood on your hands."

"You don't know that."

"I do. I'm the 'fist of HYDRA.'" The laugh he gave was cold. "There is no one else who can get the job done like me."

"I can't ask you to go through that again." The screaming was still fresh in her mind. "I can't stand hearing you in pain."

"I've been in pain long before you got here doll." He laid back, schooling his angry expression into nothingness. His voice followed his face, going from the relaxed Brooklyn tone back to the one of no emotion what so ever. "Call 'em back."

She stood up, wiping the tears with the hem of her shirt before squaring her shoulders and knocking on the door. She stood back as two agents and Volkov walked in, watching as they undid the restraints and handed James his tactical gear. She looked down as they walked past her, at least until Volkov spoke.

"HYDRA thanks you for your work." He grabbed her arm and took her back to her cell.


	6. Speak

Jemma didn't get any sleep that that night. Any attempt to do so ended with nightmares of milky eyes and screaming. She'd run out of tears hours before and the Ibuprofen had finally worn off, leaving her body feeling like one big bruise. In other words, she felt and probably looked like hell.

The rest of the day dragged on. She didn't hear anything outside her door and if she didn't see the shadows of the guards' feet under the door, she could've sworn that there were no guards at all. They hadn't even taken her to get a shower or even go to the bathroom, which didn't bother her because they hadn't delivered her food. She refused to say anything. They were trying to get her to do something, but what?

She lay back down on the bed, staring up at the dark ceiling. Anna's face kept flashing through her mind. She had said that Jemma would make it back to her team, but it had been almost a month since she'd been taken and there hadn't been anything done since the hacking incident. At the moment, Jemma was taking that as a good sign. It meant they were taking a step back and thinking of something new. If anyone could find her, it was her team.

"Dr. Simmons." A man walked into her cell and pulled her to her feet. "If you could come with me. Volkov has something he wants to show you."

Jemma didn't like the tone in which that sentence was said, but she had no choice but to be once again pulled down the hallway by her bad shoulder (of course). She bit her lip to keep the gasp from being heard. Her stomach dropped as she was brought into the vault and saw technicians working on the Wiper. No… She caught a familiar flash of metal and saw James standing off the side.

He didn't seem concerned in the slightest and if he were any other person, he would've at least looked like he cared. But Jemma saw the tense set of his shoulders and clenched jaw. He was afraid. If he was afraid, then something bad was going to happen…

"Someone's been tampering with the equipment and I would like to know who…so speak up."

Jemma then saw that she wasn't the only person being dragged into the room. There were some of the technicians that worked on the arm, others that worked on the machines, and even the few who, like her, patched up other agents. She rubbed her fingers together to stop the shaking. If he found out it was her…

"No one?" He sighed when no one spoke. "Soldier…kill one of them every minute they don't talk or if they try to run."

She started watching the clock on the far wall as she saw James stiffen only a moment before taking the gun that Volkov handed him. _Sixty, fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven…_ Her heart was pounding so loudly she was surprised those next to her didn't hear it, although knowing James…he probably did. _Fifty-six, fifty-five, fifty-four…_ She wasn't the only one scared. The young man next to her was sweating up a storm. They were terrified of the Winter Soldier, knew that he wouldn't hesitate or show mercy. _Fifty-three, fifty-two, fifty-one, fifty…_

James was slowly making his way around the room, his combat boots silent. Those blue eyes were analytical and detached as he scanned over them all, not even pausing on her. But this wasn't James, this was the Winter Soldier. She didn't know what he would do if he had to shoot her…would he do it?

 _Forty-nine, forty-eight, forty-seven, forty-six…_

He couldn't afford to disobey Volkov's orders…it would look suspicious. Or he could be put down because he's 'malfunctioning'…

 _Forty-five, forty-four, forty-three…_

The Winter Soldier walked behind them, his presence like an icy wind sending the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. He was assessing them, picking out the ones that looked like a threat… It threw off her countdown for a moment and Jemma started shaking as she realized how much time had passed. _Twenty-four, twenty-three, twenty-two…_

He clicked the safety off the gun, a bullet sliding into the chamber.

 _Twenty-one, twenty, nineteen, eighteen…_

He stopped in front of the line.

 _Seventeen, sixteen, fifteen, fourteen…_

He raised the gun with his right hand, finger on the trigger.

 _Thirteen, twelve, eleven, ten…_

He commanded the older man next to her monotonously in Russian.

 _Nine_

"I don't…I didn't do it…"

 _Eight_

The gun was aimed at him now. Jemma noticed the finger twitch on the trigger.

 _Seven_

"Please…I don't know."

 _Six_

 _Five_

The man now had tears in his eyes. "Please…"

 _Four_

There was the slightest crack in his mask. "Speak."

 _Three_

 _Two_

"I didn't do it, I-"

 _One_

Jemma bit down the scream as the shot sounded. She felt the warm splatter of blood on her face as the man's body crumpled to the ground. Her ear rung and she stopped herself from moving to cover it. This was her fault. The man was on the floor dead because of her. James had been forced to kill again…because of her. Before Jemma could even speak up, someone had tried to run.

Without turning, James shot the man. The bullet tore through the technician's neck and he was dead before he hit the ground, blood quickly pooling underneath him.

"Do not run." The Winter Soldier spoke.

Everyone in the line froze. Jemma counted five of them and herself, not counting the two dead. No one else was going to be stupid enough to run. Even now though, no one spoke. Jemma wondered if they would rather be killed by the Winter Soldier than face Volkov and decided that would be what happened. They would all be killed unless she spoke up.

Jemma couldn't have any more death on her conscious. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward. Everyone looked at her, some in surprise, and others with relief. She watched everyone being lead out and Volkov walked back in.

He had the two bodies removed. He didn't seem at all surprised that it was her, in fact, he seemed almost smug. Holding out his hand, James handed him the gun and stepped back.

Jemma saw the flicker of fear in his blue eyes. She knew he wouldn't do anything with Volkov holding the gun. She wasn't at all surprised to find that gun now aimed at her head.

"Why did you tamper with it?"

Jemma looked over at James. "I don't like hearing people in pain."

"Your concern for the Soldier is admirable Doctor Simmons, however…" He turned, putting a bullet in James' leg. James staggered but didn't fall or make a sound. Volkov smiled. "He can handle his pain just fine. Fix the machine."

Jemma could only nod. She didn't want to say that she didn't know exactly what she had done. She didn't know what else Volkov would do to James. Walking over to the chair, Jemma kneeled behind it and looked at the wires. Looking at it now, she could see a few wires crossed that looked out of place. Pulling each wire out, she placed them in their original places. She tried not to cry when she realized what would happen to James if the Wiper actually worked…he would forget himself again, become the Winter Soldier.

"Soldier, get in the chair."

Jemma watched as James walked over to the Wiper, a slight falter in his step as blood ran down his leg. The restraints locked around his arms and the machine began to crackle with electricity. She was forced to watch as the plates were pressed to his temples and he began to scream, every muscle in his body straining against the metal circling his arms. The man that she'd come to care for was being erased, returning him to the cold shell. Tears blurred her vision as he continued to scream and Jemma could've sworn she heard her name before the machine turned off.

James was slumped in the chair, his blue eyes unfocused as he stared at the far wall. He hardly reacted when the restraints opened. He blinked a few times, the haziness fading to the clinical detached look the Winter Soldier always wore.

Jemma tried to blink back the tears, her chest tightening as his eyes completely passed over her as if she wasn't there. Biting her lip, she tried to tell herself that this wasn't James. The Winter Soldier was in control now, James Barnes had been erased again. She narrowed her eyes as Volkov pulled a file from inside his lab coat and handed it to the Winter Soldier. She didn't miss the almost smug look on the doctor's face.

"This particular S.H.I.E.L.D. team has been a thorn in my side."

Jemma heart nearly stopped. _No…_

"Your mission: Bring in Coulson and Skye…kill the rest."

"No!" She found herself being restrained by agents. "No please! I'll do whatever you want…" Tears were streaming down her face as she lunged towards Volkov. "Let me talk to them please!"

"Mission accepted."

"Please…" She choked out, sinking to the floor as the fight drained out of her. She looked at the Soldier, at the person who could kill her family…her friends. "Please don't do this. You don't have to do this…" But the man she'd come to know was gone, limping away with the file in hand, completely ignoring her tearful pleas.

"Take Doctor Simmons to her cell."

"No…please." She felt them pick her up by the arms and practically drag her back to her cell. She didn't struggle as one man uncapped a syringe and plunged it into her arm, the cell around her fading into nothingness.

The sound of her cell door being opened pulled her from her drugged slumber. Jemma had no idea how long she'd been asleep, but when a hand clamped over her mouth all other thought flew out the window. The eyes staring down at her were unfamiliar, but the lust filling them was. She squirmed, trying to wrench her arms away from him. She quickly felt her wrists pinned above her head and the full weight of the man's body on her thighs. Jemma tried to used his hold to roll them both off the bed, but that only tightened his grip.

Her screams were muffled by the larger hand and she bit down until she tasted blood. That got her a backhand to the face, but he loosened his hold on her wrist and allowed her enough time to jam her thumbs into his eyes. A warm liquid ran down her hands as he screamed and fell off the bed. She felt no guilt as he held his hands over his now destroyed eyes. Slipping out of the bed she must've made a sound because a hand grabbed the back of her shirt and pulled, the fabric tearing.

"You bitch! You're going to pay for that!" His hands removed the remains of her shirt and he groped at the exposed flesh.

She kicked out at him, smiling as one sent him to the ground groaning. Stumbling to her feet, she shoved open the door to her cell and ran. Even temporarily blinded by the light she noticed someone standing at the end of the hallway. She had to blink a few times before she realized it was James…The Winter Soldier.

Those cold eyes held her in place and she could do nothing as he raised a gun at her.

"James…" She whispered. "Please, you know me…" There was a sound of boots behind her and Jemma didn't need to look to know that her would-be rapist had caught up to her. She watched his face, hoping for the slightest flicker of emotion.

There was none as he pulled the trigger.


	7. Escape

WARNING: James gets angry and bad people die painfully.

Translations are at the end. I apologize for the translations...I used Google Translate. If anyone knows Russian and can translate, I would be really thankful.

* * *

Jemma squeezed her eyes shut, surprised to hear a body that wasn't hers fall to the ground. Opening her eyes, she watched the Soldier take in her frazzled state. She was frozen as he holstered his gun and walked towards her, his flesh hand held out.

"James?"

His eyes regained some warmth and he gave her a crooked smile. "Come on, doll."

Taking his hand, she followed him into what looked like the barracks. She caught the shirt he threw her and pulled it over her head, briefly inhaling his scent of metal and leather. It distracted her for a moment, causing her to run into his back.

" _Fuck_." He growled, turning to look at her. "Stay behind me."

"No problem." As she said this, a pistol was pushed into her hands. She didn't question him, just disengaged the safety and held it tightly in her hands. This wasn't an ICER, this would kill. She looked up from the gun a moment later to find that he had rounded the corner. Looking to see that no one was coming, she peeked her head around the corner.

It looked like every agent in the base was attacking at once and if Jemma didn't know who he was she would think it a lost battle. He was a whirlwind of gleaming metal, arcs of blood following his knife. The agents finally realized to get out of his reach but were too late to take cover when he pulled out his pistol and emptied the clip. Each shot was a kill shot and when he ran out of bullets, he used his hands, breaking necks and smashing skulls against the cement wall.

Jemma should've been afraid. Instead, she was relieved, Anna's words echoing in her mind: These people that have been holding you…they won't be a problem much longer. You will make it back to your team. The men that had been holding her were currently being torn to shreds by their "greatest weapon". Her relief was shattered when she remembered her team. Had the Winter Soldier completed the mission or did James come back before that? How long had she been out? Her lack of concentration cost her as the gun was wrenched from her grip and pressed tightly to temple. Bloody hell!

"It's nice to see you, Dr. Simmons." His other arm held her tightly against him as he walked around the corner in full view of James. "Soldier."

She watched James turn, every movement slow and deliberate. Those eyes were flat, but she noticed the tick in his jaw. He was probably running through possibilities, a knife twirling between the fingers of his right hand. Even with his precision and speed, Volkov would pull the trigger before the knife killed him. She too was running possible solutions, bringing to mind the few basic self-defense lessons that May and Coulson had agreed her and Fitz be put through after one too many close calls with HYDRA.

" _Vy budete smotret' mne ubit' yeye_ …" The barrel dug into her skin. " _Smotret' yeye krovi pokryt' eti steny_."

"Пошел на хуй," James growled, his eyes finally hinting at his rage.

Jemma didn't need to understand Russian to know what that response meant. Before things got more out of control, she forced herself to go limp, causing his hold on her to slacken in surprise. Reaching up, she grabbed the barrel and pulled it away from her head before ramming an elbow into his stomach. She hit his temple with the butt of the gun, effectively stunning him, and turned to James. "Let's go."

He gave her a small smile and sheathed the knife. "One more thing doll." In the barest of movements, the metal hand had Volkov by the throat, his feet dangling a foot off the ground.

Volkov's eyes were wide as his hands tried to get purchase on the blood-coated metal. He couldn't speak as the hand tightened with a whirling sound. He looked over at Jemma and had the gall to actually send her a pleading look…

"Are you afraid Volkov? Are you in pain?" This wasn't James speaking, it was the Soldier. His head tilted a bit, studying the man's now purple face as he gasped for air. "I've been in pain for seventy years…" He let out a cold laugh and smiled, nothing reaching those vengeful blue eyes. "Do you know how long I've wanted to do this?" Choked gasp. "No? Since you brought me in. Do you remember that?" The fingers pressed deeper into the suffocating man's throat.

"I was starting to remember who I am…or who I was. You told me I was malfunctioning. Told me that my memories of my life, my family, my friend…were nothin'." The Brooklyn was seeping into the coldness of his voice as his memories surfaced. "I'll tell ya what else means nothin'…your life."

Jemma watched as the metal fingers sank into Volkov's throat, but didn't stop as blood began pouring from the punctures. The man's choked cry was cut off as James' hand slowly curled into a fist with a crunch and Volkov's body fell to the ground. James uncurled his hand, pieces of torn skin, flesh, and crushed bone falling to the floor.

She stared at James for a moment, her eyes jumping between the mangled body and the blood dripping from the lax hand. His eyes were bright with bloodlust and she couldn't help but take a step when his head snapped to meet her wide-eyed gaze. This wasn't James, but it wasn't the Soldier either. She didn't recognize those eyes at all…

He seemed to shake himself from whatever fog he'd been in because he looked at her then at his gore-covered hand in horror. He took in her trembling form and didn't seem surprised when she shrunk away from his touch or that her grip tightened on the gun.

"You should go." His voice sounded tired...defeated.

"Go where?"

"Away from here…from me." Crouching next to Volkov's body, he preceded to clean off his metal hand the best he could, but Jemma knew there would still be blood between the plating…

"I don't know where I am. I need you to help me get back to…" She trailed off.

He stood up. "They are alive."

"Then please James…" She rested her hand on his flesh arm, ignoring the blood coating the skin. He stiffened even more if that were possible and she heard the whirling of his metal hand as it once again clenched into a fist. "Can you take me to them?"

"They will put me down." He frowned at her hand. "As they should."

"They'll...oh God no James. They would never do that." Her thoughts flitted to May and Bobbi. Okay…so some of them would. She could get Coulson to see sense though. This was the Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers' childhood friend and one of the Howling Commandos. He wouldn't kill him…hopefully.

"I did kidnap you and I'm responsible for the death of hundreds of agents…"

"You're not the first assassin to be taken in…" Her sentence trailed off as he tensed, his heading cocking slightly. "What?"

"Reinforcements." He took her hand in his. "Change of plans. You're coming with me."

Jemma hardly had time to respond as she was pulled down another corridor and into a garage. Handing her a helmet and Kevlar vest, he loaded another magazine into his pistol and grabbed his mask and goggles before pulling up on a motorcycle. Ignoring the little voice that told her she was insane and that that machine was a death trap, she swung her leg over the seat and wrapped her arms around his waist and hooked her fingers into the straps on his vest. She pressed her face into his back as the tires squealed and she felt the wind on her arms. She refused to look up the entire ride.

After riding at breakneck speeds for was probably the longest hour of her life, he pulled up to a small shack and shut off the ignition. He laughed, the sound vibrating through his back. "Not that I'm complainin' doll, but you can let go now."

She could hear the smirk in his voice. "Shut up Barnes." She removed her arms and shakily got off the bike. "I've never ridden a motorcycle before."

"Sorry, Jemma. It was the only vehicle without GPS."

"Trackers?" She pulled the helmet off and flattened her hair.

"That's why we're here." He held up his metal arm. "Need to remove them before we can get on the road." He walked inside the cabin and started digging through the drawers.

"How many?"

He sat down at the table and laid his left hand on the table, palm facing up. "There's one in my elbow and I think one in my shoulder, underneath the star." He shook his head and took a knife out of his belt, using the tip to unscrew the small plate over his elbow. "They thought I forgot about them…"

She sat next to him, watching closely as he exposed the inner mechanisms and wiring of his arm. Everything was that same chromed metal, except for a nonmetallic material that had a small blinking red light that was embedded in the wiring. Wow…not really trying to hide that.

"There a chance you can remove it? My fingers aren't exactly small…"

"Do you have any tweezers or pliers?" She peered into the wiring. "I don't feel comfortable just reaching in. I might damage something."

"Trust me doll, it takes a lot to damage this."

"Mechanical engineering isn't one of my PhD.s." She sat back. "I need one to know how this works." She didn't want to add that she didn't want to hurt him any more than his arm already did.

"I'll let you know if anything happens." He handed her tweezers.

"Fine." The opening allowed her to fit in two fingers. She pushed a few cords out of the way and held them as she located the tracker and pulled. She heard a buzzing and let go when James seized up. "Are you okay?"

"Just a small shock. Nothing I can't deal with."

She again pulled, and the buzzing began anew. It took a bit more effort than she thought and when she finally got it out, James relaxed. She set the tweezers down and replaced the wires before grabbing the metal plating and screwing it back in. She had him bend the arm a few times. "Everything work?"

"Yeah. Next one's under the star." He reached over and pointed at the plating in the center of the star. "Just pull it out."

Taking the knife, she unscrewed the plating and slowly removed it. The opening was too small for even her fingers and she had to rely solely on the tweezers. It didn't help that his eyes were burning a hole in the side of her head. Finding the red light, she positioned the tweezers and pulled. Even though she made quick work of the other tracker, she could hear his teeth grinding as it was removed. After screwing everything back on, she once again had him move his arm around. "Good?"

"Just need to change out this gear. Don't know where else they have trackers."

"I guess I'll wait."

"There might be food if you want to grab something." Walking into the back room, he shut the door.

Looking down at her bloody and slightly oily hands, she decided a trip to the sink would be a good idea. After thoroughly scrubbing her hands, she searched through the cabinets and smiled when she found canned fruit. Cutting open the can with the knife, she tiled it back into her mouth. It was definitely an improvement from what they'd been feeding her. Pretty much anything would be better than that… She licked the remaining syrup from her lips and threw away the can right as he came out.

The tight white V-neck and leather jacket stretched across his broad shoulders, while the jeans were snug on his slim hips. He was still wearing his combat boots and she noticed the glove covering his left hand.

She finally forced her eyes to his face, only to find that smirk curling his lips. She cursed her pale skin as her entire face flushed and somehow managed to catch the sweatshirt he threw her. She made quick work of pulling it over the Kevlar vest. Like the shirt, it smelled like him, which was comforting. "We going?"

"Yeah, come on." After filling up the tank, he got on.

"How long until we're off the radar?" She pulled on the helmet and wrapped her arms around his waist. She was almost surprised by the warmth. The Winter Solider tactical gear seemed as cold as the name implied, but the cotton shirt and thin leather soaked in his warmth.

"In 'bout an hour's ride."

"Only an hour?" She didn't even try to mask her nervousness as he revved the engine. It had her tightening her hold around his waist and she could feel the laugh that vibrated through his back.

"I'll get us there in one piece. Don't you worry doll."

* * *

 **Translations:**

 _Vy budete smotret' mne ubit' yeye_ \- You'll watch me kill her

 _Smotret' yeye krovi pokryt' eti steny_ \- Watch her blood cover these walls.


	8. Aftermath

Melinda's Tai Chi was interrupted by the shrill sound of Skye calling for Coulson, her voice heavy with fatigue and urgency. It was no wonder. Since Jemma's abduction, the team hardly slept or spoke. This was before the message from a Doctor Volkov came on screen with a beaten and tied up Jemma. Before she saw the young scientist cry silent tears as the team crumbled completely.

Melinda didn't hear the screaming or the crying or even feel the beginning tremors of one of Skye's episodes…she heard the pained cry that Jemma made as she saw her team for the first time in weeks. She saw the sallow cheeks and shadows under her bloodshot hazel eyes that hinted at little food and sleep. The rage that she kept such a tight lid on reared its head as Volkov ran his fingers down Jemma's neck, and she tried unsuccessfully to pull away. May saw the heavy bruising around her neck, hinting at multiple attempts to strangle the scientist, and she couldn't stop the snarl that tore from her throat as Volkov spoke of her being 'valuable'. Her smile could've cut glass as she spoke to Volkov, but he only laughed, saying her words meant nothing followed by something in German: _Sie können sie nicht retten_ , which Coulson translated in a broken voice as the transmission was disconnected: You cannot save her.

 _Like hell, I can…_

Taking a drink from a water bottle, she quickly followed Skye to the conference room. Skye's shouting had awoken anyone who had actually managed to fall asleep and all were gathered the large room, faces set in grim expressions. Except for Fitz. He was just lost. His tremors had returned as did his stutter whenever he did speak.

Coulson stood up once he saw that everyone was present. "What do you have for us, Skye?"

"Well. I was finally able to track the signal of the feed to a base in the…" She tapped the tablet a few times, "Longfellow Mountains near the Maine-Canadian border." She pulled up a satellite image that left more to be desired. "I couldn't find much in the way of a layout from these, but I was able to hack into their system and pull up some old blueprints. Like the good Nazis they are, everything is in German." The blueprints then came up. "Other than that I can't get a fix on their security system, which is odd because they were giving me problems before."

"So you're saying something happened?"

"What I'm saying is their security is too lax for that of a top secret HYDRA base…so yes. Something happened." Her eyebrow knitted together as she tapped the screen a few more times. "Here are the coordinates."

May glanced at the coordinates for only a moment before Coulson told everyone to gear up. She quietly made her way to her quarters, stripping off her workout clothes and pulling on her standard tactical gear before making her way to the cockpit.

Coulson caught her arm. "How fast can you get us there?"

"Less than an hour."

He nodded, dropping his hand. "I'll let the others know."

She gave him a nod in return before making her way into the cockpit. Sitting down, she pulled on her headset and flipped the switches and controls before maneuvering the Bus to the base's coordinates.

No one complained when the ride took one hour instead of three and as soon as they landed in an open area, they began their trek towards the coordinates. There were no complaints about the cold wind or thick forest and by the time they reached what they knew was the base, May could tell at once that something wasn't right.

There were no guards posted and when Skye opened the door everything was silent. Everyone had their guns at the ready as they slowly made their way into the base. Then the smell of rotting bodies hit her like a wall, which was surprising considering she'd nearly desensitized herself to it over the years. She saw similar looks on Bobbi and Phil.

Hunter and Mack were visibly green and Skye had a hand covering her mouth, whereas Fitz had turned to heave the meager contents of his stomach onto the floor. May, Phil, and Bobbi continued around the corner and that's when the blood splatters started appearing. It wasn't they entered the corridor that May felt bile rise in her throat.

It looked like a massacre. Dozens of bodies lay on either side of the hallway, sporting bullets between the eyes, slit throats, crushed skulls, and broken necks. Their skin was tinged a purple-greenish tint that hinted they had been dead little less day. Glazed over eyes frozen in fear followed them as they quietly stepped over broken limbs before they rounded the corner to find even more bodies, all killed in the same manner. We're these people killed by one man? It had to be a man, based purely on the strength and endurance required to kill like this… Who did HYDRA piss off? She stopped for a moment when she saw a lone body sprawled at the end of the hall. She recognized it immediately as Doctor Volkov, his throat had torn out. God…

"Who did this?" Bobbi's voice betrayed the horror they were all feeling.

"I don't know, but it would be safe to assume they're no friend of HYDRA." Phil's voice was calm as he crouched next to Volkov. "Has anyone seen Jemma?"

Dread knotted in May's stomach. She really would lose it if she found Jemma's body in this state.

"AC, May, Bobbi...you'll want to see this." Skye shaky voice came through the comms.

"What is it, Skye?" Phil asked, standing up.

"You need to see it." Was all she said.

Making their way back to the front entrance, they all found Skye bent over a computer screen, She looked up to see their ashen faces and swallowed before sitting back and showing them footage of the hanger, which was on the other side of the base. She typed a few keys and the visual played.

The video two people being chased into the hanger and May was only slightly relieved to see Jemma as one of them. The other was a man, approximately six feet tall, wearing all black. He wasn't familiar at all until he turned and the flash of the metal arm caught her eye. Even with the mask and goggles on, she knew who it was. Phil cursed under his breath, running a hand down his face.

"Is that who I think it is?" Bobbi asked.

"Yes." Phil's reply was curt as he watched the video again, trying to catch something.

Skye looked at Phil and, noticing his reaction, turned to May. "Who is he?"

"The Winter Soldier." May took a breath. "He's been accredited with over two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years." She looked over at Phil. "He was sent to kill Fury by Pierce."

"So he's HYDRA?" Skye asked.

Bobbi looked at the screen again. "Not anymore I think. The carnage in the hall is definitely from him. HYDRA did something to him that sent him over the edge. He must've seen Jemma as a friendly and taken her so he could protect her."

"How do we find them?" This was Mack.

Phil finally stepped away from the screen. "We don't. The Winter Soldier is probably the best assassin in the world. He knows how to hide. If he doesn't want to be found, he won't be."

Skye transferred the data from the base onto the Bus before sitting back. "So what do we do AC?"

"All we can do is wait and hope he comes to us…and brings Jemma."


	9. Pit Stop

She again didn't look up the entire ride, trying to ignore the analytical voice in her head that was telling her they were going well above one hundred miles an hour. The faster they got away, the faster they could just lay low for a day or so…at least that's what she told herself. Instead, she concentrated on his steady heartbeat and knowing that he was calm relieved her somewhat. Of course, he was an assassin and therefore was skilled in the art of keeping his body under control and his sniper training undoubtedly taught him to regulate and sometimes slow his heartbeat, even under stress. _Bloody hell_ …she wished her mind would calm down.

He seemed to notice a change in her because he stopped in the next small town and pulled into the first gas station. Turning off the bike, he gently pried her hands off him and faced her. There was concern in his gaze. "What's wrong Jemma?"

"Nothing I just uh…just wanted off this bloody bike for a few minutes." She pulled off the helmet and hung it on the handlebar. She ran her fingers through her hair.

"You're a horrible liar doll."

She smiled. "So I've been told…I _did_ want to get off this bike though."

"We needed fuel anyways."

"We have the money?"

He smirked. "Of course…took the stash at the base. Non-sequential. Can't be traced." Pulling out a clip of bills, he handed her a twenty. "Tell the clerk fifteen on pump two."

"Not coming in?"

He shook his head, eyes roaming over the grounds. "Be back in no less than five minutes. Longer and I come in." His voice at the end had lost its warmth and she knew what he would do.

"Not a problem." She knew to leave before he said anything else. The door opened with a ring and she walked up to the cashier. Pushing her body into lab mode, she was able to keep the shaking from showing as she handed the cashier the money for gas.

"Your boy," Came the cashier's voice. "He alright?"

It took Jemma too long to realize she was talking about James. She peered out the window the woman was looking from and saw what she saw; a scruffy, scowling man pacing back and forth by the bike, eyes flitting towards the road every time a car passed by. He looked like he was expecting something to attack, his hands stuffed deep into his leather jacket. She sighed and frowned, trying to come up with some believable story. "He's…"

"How long he been back?" She asked gently, ringing up the gas for her. At her startled look she explained sheepishly. "My brother, he spent some time in Iran and wasn't the same when he came home. Acts just like your boy out there. Thinks the world is out to get him."

Blundering along, Jemma gave the woman her best worn-out look. "He just got back." She lied. "I don't know how to help him."

If the woman noticed the bruising covering Jemma's face, she didn't say. She just handed her the change. The woman probably assumed it was a nightmare gone wrong. "He has to want it."

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she took the change and smiled. "I know." She tried not to freak out as she tried to remember how long it'd been since she walked in. The woman seemed to sense her urgency.

"Go on," she said, "Any longer and he's bound to storm the place."

 _You don't know how right you are…_ "Thank you." Stuffing her hands into a front pocket of the sweatshirt, she made it outside to find James coming in.

"What took you so long?" His eyes stared through the glass.

"Relax James. Just an innocent conversation."

"You're lyin'." His eyes narrowed. "What did she say?"

The tone left no room for argument and Jemma swallowed again. "She asked if you were alright…said you reminded her of her brother when he came back. Just wanted to know if there was any way she could help."

"Came back…" His brow furrowed.

"Her brother was in Iran…you were showing signs of PTSD."

He frowned. "I'm just makin' sure we weren't followed."

" _I_ know that James, she doesn't…just fill the tank and let's go." She stood by the bike and watched as he twisted off the cap and put the nozzle in. Maybe she could convince him to stop and stay somewhere for the night. The adrenaline and shock of everything was starting to wear off and she was beginning the feel her ribs protesting as she pulled in a deep breath, but was relieved to find that her pounding headache was now a dull throbbing. She jumped when he handed her the helmet.

He didn't comment on her reaction. "We'll stop in 'bout an hour."

Wordlessly, she put on the helmet and got on the bike and once again wrapping her arms tightly around his waist as the tires squealed and they were off again.

…

To say she was relieved when they finally stopped at a small motel would have been an understatement. He paid for a room and when they walked in James began the process of sweeping every square inch of the two-bedroom _twice_. Satisfied that nothing was amiss, he once again pulled out a pistol from his jacket and handed it to her. She looked at it questioningly.

"I'm goin' to get supplies. Be back in half an hour." Then he shut the door before she could respond.

She listened as the rumbling engine grew farther away and looked down at the gun again. Why didn't he just take her instead of leaving her alone? Maybe it would draw less attention… Shrugging, she walked into the bathroom and turned on the light.

The bathroom had just enough space for a shower stall, toilet, and sink. She unfolded the towel and after deeming it clean she set the gun on the sink and stripped out of her well-traveled in clothes. She grabbed the travel size shampoo and conditioner and stepped into the shower. Considering the showers at the HYDRA base were lukewarm at best, an actual hot shower was heaven. She just stood there, letting the water run down her body and wash away the remnants of that place that still clung to her skin. It was there that Jemma finally let the tears fall.

She was on the run with HYDRA's former assassin, a man from another time whose personality bounced from the 1940's heartbreaker to the blank look of the Soldier and everywhere in between. She didn't know where she was. She didn't know when she would get back and how her team would react when she did. She tried not to put an 'if' in front of would. She had to trust James, had to trust the instincts that had been installed in him decades ago and that her team wouldn't shoot first and ask questions later.

Quickly washing her hair and combing through it with her fingers, she shut the water off and squeezed out the excess water before stepping out and grabbing the towel. After towel drying her hair, she patted down her body and pulled on her undergarments. The pants were ruined, but the shirt still held his scent so she put it back on. The hem fell to the middle of her thighs and she tried to pull it down a few times before giving up and wrapping her hair in a towel and picking up the rest of the clothes. She wasn't surprised to find James waiting for her outside the door. She walked past him to one of the beds and sat down, tucking her legs underneath her. She caught sight of two bags on his bed. "What'd you get?"

He raised an eyebrow at her state of dress but didn't comment as he set a bag in front of her and took the other one into the bathroom and shut the door. She waited until the shower turned on before dumping the bag in front of her. Sifting through the contents, she found a change of clothes, a pair of boots, some socks, a comb, hair dye a few shades lighter than her current color and even some concealer that matched her skin. Jemma smiled at the thought of him buying dye and makeup, but told herself she should be wondering how he got the right color and right size clothing. This probably wasn't his first time going on an assignment where he needed a cover, although she doubted he ever dyed his hair…

Pulling the towel off, she walked over to the mirror with the comb and started on her hair. She tried not to focus on the yellowing bruises and the shadows under her eyes that concealer couldn't completely cover up. Her focus instead fell on James when he walked out of the shower with jeans hanging low on his hips.

It wasn't the first time she'd seen him shirtless, but it _was_ the first she'd allowed herself to look at him as a woman instead of a doctor. He was absolutely gorgeous (metal arm included), lean muscles rippling under scarred olive skin, leading up to the chiseled jaw, the pale pink lips that were twisted into a smirk and ending with the bright blue eyes shining with mirth.

"See somethin' you like?"

She blushed and even though she was thoroughly embarrassed, she was happy to see light back in his eyes since leaving the base. She just rolled her eyes and continued to comb her hair, watching in the mirror as he winked at her and walked back into the bathroom. That… _ugh_. He did that on purpose. "Bloody bastard." She muttered and heard him laughing.

Stuffing everything back into her bag, she set it on the bedside table and grabbed the clicker. Turning on the television, she clicked through the channels. Local news, weather, Spanish soap opera, more weather…she smiled as she saw the familiar blue box. She leaned backed against the headboard and crossed her ankles while she watched the Doctor wield his sonic screwdriver, the familiarity taking away her irritation at James. It _had_ given her quite the view though…trying and failing, to get the image out her mind, she decided to pull out the box of hair dye and comb. He did realize he would have to help her right?

"Ready for a haircut doll?" James leaned against the doorway, his arms folded across his (thankfully) clothed chest. But his face was different: he'd shaved and cut his hair short.

It was like Jemma was looking at the black and white photo again. This was James Barnes…this was the man that had been buried in the Soldier. It took her too long to realize she hadn't responded to his question and she knew he'd noticed by the smile he had on his face and God what a smile… "Uh, yeah…you plan on helping?"

"Of course…" He threw her the towel that had been draped over his neck and instructed her to do the same. "Wouldn't want to ruin that shirt now would we?"

She just rolled her eyes and sighed, handing him the box. Since her hair was still relatively damp, he started right away. She tried to sit as still as she could as he applied the dye, running his fingers through her hair. His fingers on her scalp felt amazing and it took her a moment to realize that he'd been talking to her. "What?"

"I asked "what the hell we watchin'?""

"Doctor Who… It's a science fiction show that aired in the 60s…has aliens, time travel, comedy, action…" She knew she had a giddy grin on her face, but didn't care. "I grew up watching the classics and then they brought it back in 2005. There's this one…with the Eleventh Doctor and his companions; Amy and Rory. They land on this rock outside the universe, which is something that was just a theory and then Asgard happened and I met Lady Sif. It was like a dream come true to meet someone from another realm and then we met another Asgardian, who didn't really look at all Asgardian. See they usually wear armor and he wasn't and he seemed totally nice and then…" Realizing she'd been talking for entirely too long, she stopped and turned, dreading what his reaction would be for her total 'geek out' as Skye would call them. A blush quickly spread across her entire face. "Sorry. I tend to babble when I get…excited."

"I can see that…" He stood up and took the chemical covered gloves off his hands. "Well…the dye needs to sit for twenty-five minutes. Have plenty of time to keep babblin'…among other things." That mischievous glint was back in his eyes

She shoved him playfully, the blush burning anew as she smiled. "It's good to see you haven't lost your charm, Sergeant Barnes."

"Whatever gets a smile on your face doll." He drawled. Sitting on his bed, he leaned back against the headboard and crossed his ankles. "Now tell me more 'bout this Doctor…"

…..

Dirty blonde hair didn't look as different as she thought it would. She ran her fingers through the slightly shorter length, the blonde shining in the dim lighting. She could even see strands of her original color within. Even though it wasn't a drastic change, it would be enough to throw them off for a bit. "I'm impressed, James. You did a good job."

He put a hand to his chest, a mock hurt expression on his face. "You doubt my abilities?"

"Actually yes…guys don't dye their hair, therefore they wouldn't know."

"I'm hurt doll." His head tilted to the side, those eyes growing wider by just a fraction.

"No, you're not. Stop with the…" She waved his general direction, "…face."

"What face?"

"The puppy face…with the eyes and the…" She stopped. "You just love messing with my head don't you?"

A smile slowly curled his lips.

"Am I amusing you, Sergeant Barnes?" She put a coolness in her voice, but from the way the smile turned into that roguish smirk she'd seen in the photos that he wasn't thrown. She emphasized her point by turning to look him in the eye, her arms folded across her chest. That only seemed to draw his attention to the slightly risen hem of the shirt... _his shirt_. She just only resisted the urge to pull down the hem, but she didn't miss the gaze as it traveled down the exposed skin, a blush quickly spreading across her face.

The smile fell for a moment and gaze turned wistful, the shadows creeping back into his eyes. "Peggy woulda liked you." His left hand twitched slightly, the inner workings humming and whirling from the movement.

Her heart ached as his expression. "Is it because I can put up with you?"

Her question chased away the darkness. "Among other things." The smile returned and he got to his feet, taking a strand of blonde hair between the fingers of his right hand. "You know…I've always preferred brunettes."

Her heart rate increased at his nearness and she forced herself not to react as she caught the scent of aftershave, metal, and leather. How could she still smell leather? _He's not even wearing leather…_ "Then…uh why not have me go darker?"

"I don't know…" He dropped her hair but didn't move away. "You'd look great either way though. I think it's the eyes…they change."

"So uh…what time are we leaving tomorrow?" She slid around him and pulled out the clothes from the bag: a pair of dark wash jeans, a white tank top, and leather jacket. Not really her style, but considering the circumstances, she wasn't going to complain. She set the outfit and trainers on the desk.

He seemed to shake himself out of whatever stupor that he was in. "First light…if that's alright with you."

"That's good." She went to get into bed when he grabbed her wrist. His expression had lost the joking edge…this was serious. He held out a vial and syringe, and she looked down at it questioningly.

"It's in case _he_ comes back. Just stick it anywhere you can."

She inspected the label. "Pentobarbital? James this will _kill_ you." _It had killed Anna…_

"Only if you give me too much, which you won't." He switched off the television and the room was dark once more, the metal arm gleaming as a car drove by.

"You trust me with this?" She gripped the vial tightly. "You trust me with your life?"

"More than I trust myself with yours. Goodnight Jemma." He laid down on his side, back facing her. It was only a few moments before his breathing evened out.

She knew he wasn't asleep, but humored him and did the same, but not before filling the syringe to a high, but not lethal, dosage. No matter how awful the whole thing was, she knew he was right. She could do what needed to be done…she had to.


	10. Nightmares

**WARNING: Self-harm is present in this chapter.**

* * *

A series of noises pulled Jemma from sleep and she reached for the syringe she'd put under the pillow when he'd started yelling things in Russian. His voice was pained and she wished she could understand him, but all she did was turn over to watch him. She shot a glance at the alarm clock. _2:36am_.

She was glad the hotel hadn't had much business when he started screaming, a long drawn wail that Jemma knew all too well. It was the same way she'd cried out as she fell from the plane, but she knew there wasn't anyone there to catch him before he hit the ground and she bit her lip as he switched to English.

"Please make it stop…" He was curled on his side. "Just make it stop…"

Each cry brought tears to her eyes, but she knew that moving out of the bed would alert his instincts and she also knew _what_ those instincts would tell him to do. Her heart ached as his shoulders started shaking with silent sobs. She clenched her jaw as the silence was broken by all too familiar screams. It was like the base all over again, forced to listen as he was stripped of what made him human. Then she heard the unmistakable sound of metal scratching metal as he sat up in bed.

"Please…I don't want it." He'd found the mess of scar tissue and was… _God_ digging a knife into his shoulder as if he wanted to pry it off himself. "Take it off…" The familiar copper scent of blood filled the air as blood ran down his bare chest and Jemma finally got out of bed.

"James…" She reached out with a hand, the other holding the syringe. "James, its Jemma…" Her feet were quiet as she slowly approached him and she figured that was why he reacted so badly when she got too close, suddenly finding herself thrown halfway across the room, her hand bleeding from when he lashed out at her. She pulled herself to her feet, her ribs protesting as she did. She was surprised to find that she still had a grip on the syringe, but the surprise faded as James got to his feet and turned. The Winter Soldier stared at her with vacant eyes.

Jemma's heart leaped into her throat and all she could do was slowly back up as he walked toward her. She knew she was cornered when she felt the wall at her back and his arms caged her in. She swallowed, pulse pounding in her ears as a warm hand wrapped around her throat. She felt the stickiness of his blood on her neck, the roughness of his skin as the fingers twitched ever so slightly. She looked at him. There was almost a wrongness with the face of Bucky Barnes having flat eyes, like only the man with long hair and stubble-covered jaw was the Soldier…

"What's in the syringe?" The accent was gone, his voice back to its deadness. His hand tightened around her throat when she didn't respond. When he spoke again, it came out at a growl. "Tell me."

She shivered at the animalistic sound. There was no way she could lie, but there was no way she could tell him the truth. Both options ended with him snapping her neck. She coughed as his grip slowly cut off the oxygen. All she had to do was get the syringe into his arm, but she knew it was easier said than done. Instead, she stated a half-truth. "It's uh…" She coughed. "It's Pentobarbital…"

Fingers dug deeper into her neck, the nails breaking skin. "What does it do?"

"It'll help me fix your shoulder…it's pretty cut up. It helps with the pain." It wasn't a lie. In small doses, Pentobarbital was used for a relaxant, to make a patient calmer. She popped the cover off the needle. "I just want to help."

His metal wrapped around her wrist as she lifted the syringe and twisted, several bones breaking. He didn't react to her scream of pain but seemed kind of shocked when she caught the needle with her left hand and jammed it into his arm, pressing down on the plunger.

She immediately cradled her broken wrist when his hand left her throat and he staggered back as the drug finally took effect and he fell to the floor loudly, the metal arm still sounding as his body lay still. Walking over to him, she pressed the fingers of her cut hand to his neck, his pulse slow, but still there. Standing back up, she looked down at her swelling hand. Like ripping off a Band-Aid, she reset her wrist and she cried out as the pain nearly had her on her knees. Making her way over to his bed, she dug through his bag and found more medical supplies.

She was relieved to find that the med kit had an emergency splint. She wasn't sure how much she only do with one hand though. Making sure to hold her injured wrist above her head, she walked over the table and pulled out the splint, gauze, and elastic bandages. Folding the splint into a suitable shape, she padded the splint with some gauze and laid her arm into the splint. She bit her lip, forcing the pain back as she started to secure the splint. The process was slow going with one hand and the end result left more to be desired and she then looked her other hand. The cut was deep, blood dripping down her forearm. It would probably need stitches... Ripping off gauze with her teeth, she wrapped her hand as tightly as she could. There was no way she could stitch it up with one hand. Packing the cut as much as she could, she wrapped another layer of gauze and bandages around it and tied it off with her teeth. Jemma was relieved to finally take the ibuprofen. Along with getting rid of the pain, it would also reduce the swelling. Holding her arm across her chest, she grabbed a pillow off her bed and propped James' head off the ground. She wouldn't have had the energy to move him with two working hands so she got to work on cleaning the blood from his shoulder and his chest. Setting the bloodied material to the side as she laid her head back against the wall. The clock read _3:11 am._ It was going to be a long night…

It was about 5:30 when he started to come to and Jemma couldn't stop herself from scooting away from as his metal arm as it moved. She spared a look at the blood crusted shoulder and there was only shiny pick scarring where he had cut into his body. She watched his eyes snap open, taking in his surroundings and she froze when they finally landed on her. She knew how she looked, with a bloody handprint wrapped around her neck and a splint on her arm and a wrapping on the other. He couldn't miss the multitude of bruises littering her arms and legs from her toss across the room.

He seemed horrified for a moment but schooled his expression. "What happened?'

"I was woken up at about 2:30 in the morning…" Her voice was raspy, a side effect of his tight hold. "You were having a nightmare and you tried to…remove the arm. I was going to inject you so you would sleep, but…the Solider didn't like that." She motioned to her hand. "Didn't want me to use the syringe…switched hands at the last minute though and injected the needle into your arm."

"You haven't slept."

"No…needed to watch you. And my bloody hands hurt to move around." She shrugged. "Not the first all-nighter I've pulled. I'll be fine."

"Fine? I…" He sat up fast and for a moment it appeared he'd snap, but he only closed his eyes and sighed. "Let me look at your hands."

She hoped her flinch as she set the splint onto his metal hand could be attributed to pain and not fear. She watched as he redid the splint with a gentleness that spoke volumes. He then removed the bandages from her other hand, cleaning the wound before stitching it up. His eyes held the same expression after he hit her on Volkov's orders. He hated himself and Jemma didn't know what to say that would make him feel better.

He didn't speak again as he redid the splint, helped clean her wounds and get her in her clothes and tied her shoes. As soon as he finished he abruptly got dressed and left, the tires squealing as he peeled out of the parking lot going God knows where.

When she went to do her hair, she could see why he would have to leave. There was fresh bruising around her throat, crescent-shaped scabs where his nails broke through, and the bruises covering her arms had darkened, along with the shadows under her bloodshot eyes. Finished with her hair, she set down the comb she moved onto the concealer. The bruising in her face was easy to cover, but the ones around her neck? Make-up could only do so much…

Putting everything in the bag she sat on the end of her bed. It'd only been about fifteen minutes he'd left but Jemma was worried. What if the Soldier came back to finish what she had abruptly ended the night before? What if he decided to finish his last mission? No…stop thinking like that. He'll be back soon…and almost as if he read her mind, he walked in.

"Ready to go?" He didn't look her in the eye as he spoke.

"Ready when you are." Her throat ached as she spoke and she didn't miss the cringe as she started coughing. She couldn't speak above a whisper apparently. She followed as he took their things and walked out of the hotel. She was surprised to find an inconspicuous black car instead of the bike.

"Took it from a local dealer…won't be reported stolen." He threw the bag in the back.

She smiled when he opened the door for her. Some things will never change. She slid into the passenger seat and he buckled her in before starting the ignition. They were on the road quickly and she finally took notice of their surroundings.

"We're in North Hampton, New Hampshire. Ten hours until we reach your teams' coordinates in Virginia."

"Does anyone else in HYDRA know of those coordinates?"

"Possibly…which is why we're drivin' nonstop. Need to get there before HYDRA…get some sleep Jemma. We'll be there before ya know it." His accented tone was teasing, but the tight grip on the steering wheel said the opposite.

"James, about last night…"

"Just drop it Jemma…" The voice was cold, but not completely dead. "Get some sleep."

She didn't sleep…at least not at first. She watched as towns passed in blurs and when they pulled onto the freeway, he was coiled up like a spring. She watched the speedometer push ninety-five and it was only a matter of time before he pulled off the freeway and stuck to smaller highways. There were no other cars or signs of civilization when he finally calmed down and Jemma finally relaxed enough to fall asleep…


	11. On the Road

_"Come on my dear." Volkov's hand was firm on her back as he steered Jemma down the hallway. "We need you to do something for us."_

 _"I'm not killing anyone." She set her jaw. "I refuse."_

 _"Oh no Dr. Simmons…we have other plans for you."_

 _Her stomach dropped as they stepped into the vault. There two technicians standing on either side of the Wiper, their faces grim. She frantically looked for James, but only found the Soldier standing off to the side. He hardly reacted when she screamed and struggled as she was forced into the machine, the metal restraints tightening around her arms. "Please…"_

 _"You will turn on your team after we're done with you." He smiled as the machine crackled. "You will follow orders without question…you will be our next Asset."_

"Jemma."

 _She pulled against the restraints as the metal plates pressed against her temples…_

"Jemma wake up."

 _"Wipe her…"_

"Jemma!"

Jemma's eyes snapped open, a choked cry leaving her throat. There was a warm hand on her shoulder. Knowing blue eyes met hers and she blinked back tears as she sat up. She hissed as she bumped her hand against the door, noticing that they had stopped at a gas station. "Sorry..."

"Not a problem. Needed gas anyways."

She was glad he didn't push about the nightmare. "How much longer?" She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. She was afraid to look at him again…to bring back the images from her nightmare. Of those cold eyes…crackling electricity…

"About four hours."

"You let me sleep all that time?"

"You needed it." He went to get out. "It's not like there's anything else going on."

"Could you get me a water while you're out?" She looked down at her splinted hand. It wouldn't look good for James if she walked in covered in bruises and sporting a broken arm.

He nodded, shutting the driver door and walking into the gas station. Four hours…four hours and she would be back with her team, her family. He would obviously stay to fight off HYDRA, but what then? Where would James go? Would he look for Steve or would he just wander? She wanted him to stay, but she knew he didn't want to hurt her or any of her team, which could possibly happen with the last mission given to him.

She reached backward with her good arm, blindly searching for the bag with the Ibuprofen because the last dose was definitely wearing off. She could ignore the smaller bruises and even her aching ribs, but her hands were going to do her in. In the back of her mind, she realized that her pain tolerance had increased in a short time. Finding a handle, she pulled until the bag was sitting on the consul. Steadying it, she unzipped the bag and dug through the supplies. There were a few extra shirts, the med kit and even a box of granola bars. It was also then that she realized that she hadn't eaten a thing since yesterday. Hunger was nothing new. A habit picked up from her days at the Academy and Sci. Ops, she and Fitz could be in the lab for almost 24-hour stretches where they didn't eat. Skye joked that the only reason that they ate or drank anything at all was because she practically forced it down their throats. Smiling at the memory, she set two in her lap and opened the med kit. She was dismayed to find the bottle was child-safe, meaning she couldn't open it with one hand. Setting the bottle in her lap, she zipped up the bag and pushed it into the back seat and waited for James.

It wasn't long before he walked out of the gas station, two bottles of water in his hand. Opening the driver door, he sat down and put the water in the cup holders. He noticed her expression. "You know…you look cute when you frown."

"Bugger off."

His voice lost the teasing edge. "What's wrong?"

"I can't open this and my hands bloody hurt." She saw his expression grow even more serious, guilt rushing to the surface. She said nothing else as he opened it and dropped two pills into her hand. Setting them on her tongue, she swallowed them with water and ate one of the granola bars.

"Better?"

"Yeah…should kick in soon." She buckled herself in. The silence was deafening and she knew that James wouldn't be the first to break it. She also knew she couldn't either. What would she say? What could she do to chase away the guilt in those icy orbs when every time he looked at her he saw the bruises and broken bones? Did he remember anything when he 'Wintered' out? Maybe that was why…she knew she'd been scared out of her mind and the scream that had torn from her throat was full of raw pain that he had caused.

The car was back on the highway again and the only sound in the car was the soft whirling and humming of his arm. Jemma, having nothing else to do, started counting the chromed plating of the prosthetic. She'd gotten to his elbow when the car lurched. Again she bit down on her bottom lip as the splint hit the door, the now dull pain flaring. She looked up to see James…or at this moment, the Winter Soldier. _Bloody hell…_

He appeared to be taking in his surroundings, those eyes only passing over her for a moment before they focused. He ran his scrutinizing eyes down her body, not pausing on the necklace of bruising or splinted arm, but paused when they reached her own wide-eyed gaze. Something passed through those flat eyes. "Doctor Simmons."

She was Doctor Simmons, not Jemma…or doll. Just like he wasn't James. "Soldier."

"Did I complete my mission?"

She swallowed, forcing her voice not to crack. "No…you're on your way now."

"You should not be here." His eyebrows furrowed just slightly.

"I can help bypass the security into the base without setting off the alarm."

"I don't need you for that." His metal hand flexed and he didn't miss the flinch the small action caused. He looked in the rearview mirror for a moment, his lips parting slightly as Bucky Barnes' face stared back at him.

Jemma was expecting an outburst of anger or hell…even violence and she couldn't help but move closer to the door when he hands tightened on the steering wheel and eyes shifted back and forth between the mirror and the road. What she didn't expect was for him to veer off the road and slam on the brakes, the seatbelt digging into her ribs as her body was flung back into the seat. She looked over at him. "James?"

He was hunched over the wheel now, his entire body rigid and metal arm whirling. His harsh breathing was quickly brought under control and ever so slowly, he picked up his head and looked at her, his blue eyes hazy with confusion. His jaw clenched as his gaze trailed down her body, probably looking for any new injuries. "Jemma…"

Her name came out as a whisper, but there was so much pain in those two syllables that she reached over and laid a hand on his arm and squeezed. The muscles relaxed under her touch and he let out a shuddering breath. His expression brought tears to the surface as horrified realization shattered his confusion. "James…"

"I almost… _he_ almost…" He shook his head, only to lock his gaze on her hand. His eyes narrowed for a moment. "You shouldn't be touchin' me."

She waited for him to pull away, but he didn't. Her thumbs ran small circles over his skin and Jemma didn't miss him suck in a breath at the gentle touch. He needed someone to treat him like a man and not a machine. He needed gentleness and compassion, not violence and pain. "What happened?" She asked in a soft voice.

He stared out the window. "Don't know…"

"What did the Soldier want to do?" The muscles underneath her hand tightened and Jemma noticed the white-knuckled fist, yet he didn't pull away. She continued drawing shapes over his skin.

"Doesn't matter." He pulled back onto the highway.

"Yes, it does." Anything that got a reaction like that out of him must've been bad and her curiosity was going to kill her one of these days. Almost did a few times… "You can tell me, James."

"He wanted you out of his way."

A chill went down her back at the tone at which he delivered the statement and her touch faltered. It signaled the end of questioning and confirmed that the Soldier wouldn't hesitate to cross her off the next time she was in his way. "Then I'll stay out of his way." She squeezed his arm and continued tracing the corded muscles of his forearm. They stiffened under touch and she went to pull away.

"Don't."

"What?"

"Your touch…" He looked down at her hand, brows furrowed. "It keeps him away."

She couldn't help the blush that came to her cheeks and crawled down her neck and chest. She bit her lip, her eyes not making it past his clenched jaw. She barely managed the 'okay' that left her mouth and she was slightly surprised when he twined his fingers with hers.

He only shot her a crooked grin and returned his gaze to the road. He was definitely more relaxed and every few moments he'd squeeze her hand as if to reassure himself that she was still there. Then he started humming.

Jemma had heard enough of Coulson's vinyl to recognize an oldie. She said nothing, only squeezing his hand in response to the tune. Closing her eyes, she laid her head back and let the hummed melody pull her into sleep.

…

Jemma knew the moment she came to that something was wrong. It wasn't just the fact that James now had two hands on the wheels, white-knuckled and whirling metal or the hardness in his eyes as he swept the road in front of him. It was also the tension in the small car that could've been cut with a knife. She grimaced as she used her better hand to push herself into an upright position, her bruised body stiff, while her right hand throbbed with every heartbeat. "What's wrong?"

He spared her a glance and clenched his jaw. "We're being followed."

"Followed?" She looked behind her, spotting the SUV with darkly tinted windows. They were a good distance away and figured they had to be packing serious firepower, which was probably why James hadn't done anything. Their firepower consisted of a pistol with a few clips and about half a dozen daggers, none of which worked at this distance. "How long?"

"'Bout twenty minutes."

"How long until we reach my team?"

"Ninety minutes." He started weaving through traffic.

"Can you shake them?"

He shot her an amused glance, one side of his mouth twitching. "You doubt my skills doll." He pulled out at the nearest exit, the sign speeding past too fast for her to catch their location. "Give me ten minutes."

Ten minutes and a new car later, they were discreetly making their way out of whatever town they were in. To be honest, Jemma would've thought there'd be more reckless driving, but she was surprised by the way he handled it. That was probably the point though. They would be noticed if they'd made a scene in such an area… "We lose them?"

"Only temporarily. We should be long gone before they notice we switched cars."

She nodded, just happy to be back on the road. It was interesting to see James in between the mindset of James and the Winter Soldier. His eyes held that same hard coldness, but the hand twined with hers was warm and soft, calluses thumb running along her knuckles. She felt that he was reassuring himself and her.

The closer they got to the Playground's coordinates, the more she began to recognize their wooded surroundings. It was also when James once again tensed up and removed his hand from hers. She saw the familiar SUV behind them and her heart dropped. Jemma barely had time to brace herself before James swerved away from a spray of bullets. Not needing to be told, she immediately bent down and covered her head. She could hear James cursing in Russian as the car tipped and she bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood.

It came back down on all four tires and she was surprised when James forced her back into the chair with his flesh arm, holding her like a band of metal against the seat. She didn't have time to ask why before an explosion flipped the car and her world was filled with crashing metal, shattering glass and her own screams before everything went black.


	12. Protect

It was nine miles from the base's coordinates when the black SUV from earlier made its appearance yet again. His body went rigid, his hand pulling away from Jemma's. James felt her eyes on him and heard her small intake of breath when she noticed it as well.

Gripping the wheel in both hands, he jerked the wheel to the left to avoid the spray of bullets from the automatic weapon being fired from the passenger window, the suddenness of the action causing the car to tilt on two tires. He could feel the Soldier fighting to pull out the gun strapped to his thigh and start firing back, but then he noticed the other black vehicle pulling out of the tree and looked back at Jemma as the car started to come back on all four tires. She wouldn't survive the firefight….not with two vehicles. Then he noticed a man stepping into the road, a familiar (why was it familiar?) gun in hand. Shit…

When the car finally came down on all fours, he forced Jemma back into the seat. He could feel her pulse pounding frantically in her chest, such a contrast to his steady beat in his own. He spared a glance at her wide hazel eyes before the explosion flipped the car. Jemma's screaming, crunching metal, and shattering glass sounded in his ears as the car skidded along the dirt road on its hood.

When it finally stopped, he blinked the blood from his vision as he felt for Jemma's pulse. Sixty-three beats a minute. Using his metal arm, he broke her seat belt before kicking the driver's door and pulling her out and into the cover of the trees. Stripping off his jacket, he cushioned her head and propped her against a tree out of the other's sight. After a quick check, he confirmed that the only new visible injury was the gash above her right eye. Cupping her jaw in his right hand, he runs the pad of his thumb along the soft skin of her cheek.

He had to fight them…for her. For the woman who saw something in the shell of HYDRA's greatest weapon, saw past the monstrosity of his left arm. She was the S.H.I.E.L.D. scientist with a heart of gold. He knew she deserved better than the blood-soaked weapon he was, and as he crouched in the brush, listening to the men approach, he could feel the Winter Soldier slowly seep into his body and into his mind. He would need the Soldier to save her. Closing his eyes James stepped back, allowing the Soldier to take complete control. Pulling the knife from his boot, the Soldier attacked.

The two agents closest to him fell, scarlet smile adorned their throats. Stepping over the bodies, he raised his left arm as bullets ricocheted off the metal arm, taking out one agent with a bullet through the neck. Delivering a neck breaking strike with his left arm, he disarmed the gun aimed at him before kicking the man's chest in. Using the gun he took aim at the approaching men and began firing. Three bodies fell before a bullet tore through his thigh. It didn't slow the Soldier. (The Asset feels no pain) The man who shot him was kicked into a nearby tree, a broken branch piercing through his chest.

Without looking back, the Soldier tears a piece of twisted metal off a nearby car and throws it towards the man approaching the clump of trees that Doctor Simmons was laid behind, hearing the gurgle as it shredded his throat. Another shot, another body. The gun jammed and he tossed it on the ground before surging into the group of oncoming targets, who scattered, attempting to throw off his focus.

He didn't lose it. Shattering a hand holding a knife, he thrust it under the man's jaw and pulled it out with inhuman speed, sinking it into the throat of another before tearing through another carotid artery. A bullet went through his arm (The Asset feels no pain) as he slammed his left elbow back into one's face, crushing the skull, before grabbing another's neck and snapping it.

A knife sinks into the juncture of metal and flesh, the man dragging it down the Soldier's back with all his weight. The Soldier whirls (The Asset feels no pain), the metal hand crushing the man's skull. Pulling out the knife, the Soldier turns, stabbing into the approaching man's femoral artery and another's throat. Twirling the blade in his right hand, he walks toward the other vehicle, a van, throwing the dagger into the throat of the first man to exit.

He rolls away from the spray of bullets, picking up two guns from the blood-soaked ground, and takes cover behind the wrecked car. Each shot drops a body and when the bullets run out, he begins tearing apart the car, shards of metal and glass shredding into the front line. Vaulting over the car, he lands on the nearest agent, snapping his neck before delivering a bone-crushing kick to another man's knee. Taking his knife, he stabs under the man's unprotected jaw, using the body as a shield before throwing it into a group huddled behind the cover of the van. As they scrambled to their feet, the Soldier pulls the other knife from his boot, slitting their throats in quick succession.

The Soldier's body jerks as two bullets pierce his abdomen. (The Asset feels no pain) Flipping backward, he takes out the shooter before taking his gun and putting down the four men crouched behind the SUV. The sound of crunching glass alerts the Soldier to an approaching enemy and he turns, a bullet tearing through the man's throat. Two men stand before the Soldier, a limp Doctor Simmons held between them, a dagger pressed to her bruised throat.

"Stand down Soldier." The man smiles. "Or the little S.H.I.E.L.D. bitch dies."

The Soldier goes to pull the trigger. One civilian life means nothing when completing the mission. The Soldier must complete the Mission. _Stop!_ A voice sounds in the back of the Soldier's mind and the muscles of his arm freeze up. _Protect Jemma! The Mission is to protect Jemma Simmons!_ Protect Jemma…? He shakes his head. The Asset is malfunctioning, the Asset must be repaired…the Asset…Soldier…must complete the Mission.

The Mission…protect Jemma Simmons.

James Buchanan Barnes came surging to the surface, a crooked smile curling his lips. He lets out a laugh at the looks of shock and horror that come to their faces, his head tilting to the side as their heart rates increased. The gun is holstered at his thigh and he folds his arms across his chest, ignoring the stinging pain of the bullet wounds. He watched as the steady hand holding the glass to her throat begun to tremble. "You might want to let my girl go." He drawled, "And you might want to do it now."

"What if I don't?"

"Oh come on." He rocked back on his heels, sending them a condescending smirk. "No one's that boneheaded. Except maybe the punk." An image flashed through his mind of scrawny Steve picking himself up and wiping the blood from his nose. "Never could back down from a fight." He shrugs at their confused expressions. "Now take _my_ advice and put the girl down. I'll make your deaths as painless as possible."

The fact that he was speaking seemed to throw the remaining two agents off. The Winter Soldier didn't speak unless spoken to, nor did he show any emotion whatsoever. Didn't fight back when struck. With one last white-toothed grin, he ran forward, protecting Jemma as the glass meant for her slashed his cheek. Cradling her to his chest with his right arm, he takes another bullet to the back for Jemma as he lays her gently on the ground before disarming the shooter and swings his metal arm with enough force to put the hand through his chest. Ripping it free with a sucking sound, he then grabs the throat of the other man, and like the good Doctor tears it out. He watches with smug satisfaction as the body falls to the ground.

Finding the shirts from the wreckage of their car, he tears them into strips and binds his stomach and back the best he can before tying another strip tightly around his sluggishly bleeding thigh. He does the same for his arm and shoulder before wrapping Jemma in his jacket. His entire body protests as he lifts Jemma into his arms, but he ignores it as he starts up the road to the base.

The combat boots felt heavy on his feet as he decided to go off the road and into the forest to decrease detection. He only falls once, shielding Jemma as he takes a tumble onto the rocks. After finding no new injuries, he pulls his bruised and battered body to his feet and continues on. The strips of cotton are quickly becoming soaked through with red and James takes a moment to push away the black dots dancing across his vision. He can't collapse again. Tightening his hold on Jemma, he looks up at the darkening sky. He'd been walking for almost an hour and a half, which meant he still had about two and a half miles to go.

The temperature dropped to well below freezing as the sun set behind the mountain ridge, and he couldn't help but feel like he was in cryo all over again. His vision flashed back and forth from frost covered glass to the dark forest. He couldn't fall back into those memories, he had to get Jemma to her team. He had to push himself forwards, concentrating on Jemma's steady heartbeat and on the warm puffs of breath on the cold skin of his neck. The blood that had soaked through the makeshift bandages was slowly freezing to his sluggishly healing wounds. The bullets will be a bitch to remove, along with the bandages. His steady heartbeat finally faltered as a tree branch sent him stumbling and caused any healed wounds to rip open again, the frost melting as warm blood poured from the freshly opened wounds. _Shit…_

Regaining his balance, he once again adjusted her weight in his arms. His enhanced vision was beginning to get hazy, but the light of the half-moon provided him with some light. He looked down at Jemma as her body began to shiver, her chapped lips brushing against his neck as she sought warmth. He stiffened for a moment before fastening the jacket even tighter around her. She needed the warmth more than he did. He could take these conditions…had been trained to. _Wouldn't be the first time he was nearly frozen…_

The bullet in his back was proving to be impossible to ignore, every step sending pain up his spine and into his shredded shoulder that had barely started to heal. He was almost tempted to pull it out himself but found that it was pushing him forward. It kept his body from being completely numb.

Less than a mile now. He knew the limits of his body, had pushed them many times before and he knew that he only had about twenty minutes before his body would shut down. He had about fifteen minutes until he reached the base. He would be cutting this real close. He nearly sighed in relief as the doors came into view.

The sound of guns being aimed at him wasn't surprising. He looked up to see six guns trained on him, one by Phil Coulson, one by Lance Hunter, two by Barbara Morse, and two by Melinda May. Coulson's expression faltered as he took a step toward James, and he lowered his gun. The others weren't pleased with the action, but he ignored him. "Barnes…Bucky Barnes of the Howling Commandoes?"

 _Howling Commandoes…why did that sound so familiar?_ He nodded. "Yes, Sir."

Phil turned to Melinda May. "Get two gurneys."

"But Phil…"

"We can talk later May. These two need medical attention."

James watched as Morse and Hunter slowly lowered their guns. He didn't miss the wide eye looks or the gasps of shock as he laid Jemma on the gurney, exposing his own injuries. He probably looked like death warmed up and there was no part of his body (except the metal arm) that wasn't in pain. He managed to pull himself onto the gurney though and only ground his teeth as he lay back, his back and shoulder screaming in pain. He allowed himself to close his eyes for only a moment before the familiar smells of a medical suite had him opening his eyes for only a moment before he felt a needle injected into his right arm. He didn't fight as his body was pulled into unconsciousness.


	13. Surprise Visitor

The man standing at the entrance to the base with a blonde woman in his arms didn't look like the man they had seen in the security footage from a week ago. His hair was cut short and he was dressed in civilian clothing, but the blood-soaked white T-shirt didn't hide the metal arm that was also caked with dirt and gore. Two gunshot wounds were visible, one through his right forearm and another in his right thigh. Both were tied up with torn strips of cotton, most likely an old shirt.

The blonde woman had to be Jemma. At this distance though, she couldn't see any injuries given that the Winter Soldier had her tightly wrapped in his jacket, her face buried in his chest. Jemma was shivering violently though and watched the Soldier adjust his hold on her so she could soak in more of his warmth. He cared for her it seemed…

Those pale blue eyes scanned over the four of them, most likely assessing their threat level. But May could see that those eyes, while attentive, were slightly glazed over. That and the alarmingly pale pallor of his exposed skin lead her to believe he was suffering from extreme blood loss and premature hypothermia. He wasn't surprised by the number of guns being pointed at them and she had no doubts that he could probably take them, even in his current condition.

"Sergeant Barnes…Sergeant Bucky Barnes of the Howling Commandoes?" Phil's voice faltered and he lowered his gun.

Damn idiot! She was about to send him a glare when she watched the Soldier's expression. His brow furrowed and he seemed confused about the question. He nodded and she noticed him sway on his feet. The Soldier…Barnes would collapse at any moment. Phil turned to her, ignoring the smoldering glare, and said: "Get two gurneys."

"But Phil…"

Her response was met with a stern look of his own. "We can talk later May. These two need medical attention." He turned to Morse and Hunter, ordering them to lower their guns. They did so reluctantly.

Two gurneys were brought out a minute later and she watched as Barnes laid Jemma down onto one of them. Doing so showed the extent of the man's injuries. She couldn't hide the shock on her face when she caught sight of the blood-soaked bandages wrapped around his torso and left shoulder. She couldn't fathom how the man was still on his feet… They let him pull himself onto the gurney, jaw clenching as he laid flat on his back and closed his eyes.

He stayed that way until they were both rolled into the medical suite and his eyes sprang open as Phil injected a heavy sedative into his right arm. Given the amount Phil had injected, it only took moments for Barnes' eyes to close.

May looked down at the now unconscious man on the gurney. The left arm was unlike anything she'd seen, save for Mike Thompson's Deathlock hardware. Phil had advised that no one touch the arm without Barnes' express permission, except to examine the wound near it.

While not exactly the most medically inclined, Phil thought it best that only he and May work on Barnes in case someone or something sets him off. She helped Phil strip the man of his bloody clothes and bandages. She started with the bullet in his thigh and was first surprised by the amount of healing that had occurred in that time and second by the sheer luck that it hadn't hit the femoral artery. Reopening the wound, she pulled out the bullet and proceeded to sterilize and wrap it before moving up to the two wounds in his abdomen.

"How is Simmons?" She again reopened the wound and sterilized it before moving onto the next one.

"Four bruised ribs, deep tissue bruising on her right shoulder, deep laceration to the palm of her left hand that was expertly stitched up, her right wrist was broken a day or two ago and again reset by someone who knew what they were doing." He helped turn Barnes onto his right side. "Along with layers of bruising around her throat, there also bruises covering her arms and legs. Looks like he took the brunt of it though."

"Jesus Phil…" The injuries on his back no better. She hastily removed the bullet and sterilized the sight before wrapping gauze around his stomach and back. The wound to his left shoulder looked like someone had taken a hack at him, but on closer inspection, she noticed the torn muscle and skin. Someone had stabbed him and pulled down with sufficient force. "How was he still standing?"

"Not the worst beating he's taken." Came a cool voice from the doorway.

If they hadn't been experienced agents, they might've jumped. Phil and May only snapped their heads up, unable to pull their weapons with their hands full of an unconscious Barnes. Natasha Romanov was leaning against the doorway, arms folded across her chest. She raised one eyebrow at Phil's stunned silence. "No hello?"

"I…"

On any other day, May would have been amused by the expression, but she only turned to the Russian. "Could you help? We need another set of hands."

Cool green eyes met hers before Romanov walked to stand by May's side and looked at the damaged shoulder. After quickly assessing the injury, the woman sterilized the wound and began stitching it up, mindful of the chromed metal components woven throughout the muscle and embedded in the bone that were visible within the injury. "There was no damage to the arm, so I would advise not to let anyone mess around with it without his permission."

May nodded. "I'm assuming you've been tracking him?"

Romanov had them lay him on his back, her eyes taking in the other injuries and clean-shaven appearance. She nodded. "Since the attempted assassination of Pepper Potts. I've been watching for any attacks on HYDRA…given that his programming was dissolving rapidly since Steve broke through it, I figured he would want revenge."

"Programming?" Phil had finally managed to speak. "You mean he was brainwashed?"

"For decades." She responded.

"So what led you here?"

"There was a car explosion about nine miles from the base. I founded a wrecked car, a black SUV, and van. There was a grand total of forty-two bodies and bloody trail to your front door. " Her lips twitched in a ghost of a smile. "Soldier ripped those bastards apart."

 _Forty-two bodies?_ May looked over at Barnes. He had been enhanced by HYDRA, experimented on, and brainwashed for decades. This was HYDRA's response to Captain America, their own super soldier to control. May knew it was no coincidence that they picked Barnes. HYDRA erased a lifetime, erased an entire person from existence. How long did it take before he stopped fighting? What did it take to break a man like Bucky Barnes? "What happened to him?"

Romanov didn't miss the tone and she allowed her sadness to show for a moment. "He'll tell you." She tilted her head in the direction of the other medical lab. "Is she one of your agents? The woman he brought in?"

Phil nodded. "Jemma Simmons. She's an expert in human and alien biology, which made her useful to HYDRA so they could continue their experiments. They had her for almost five weeks…Barnes destroyed the base and took her with him. We still aren't entirely sure why…"

May sighed…sometimes Phil could be so transparent. "He cares for her…wants to protect her."

"Bucky Barnes," Romanov smiled. "Ever the lady's man."

"Did…someone say my name?"

May and Phil were the only ones shocked when Barnes slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, his pale eyes still a little glazed over. His eyes narrowed when they landed on Romanov. "Наталья? Это ты?"

Whatever was said froze the Russian in her tracks, her green eyes widened before she turned and left the room. Barnes seemed disoriented as the door shut and it took him a minute or so to come back. After a few slow blinks, the glaze faded away as his alertness returned and he examined the clean bandages wrapped around his bare torso. "What happened?"

May and Phil shared a look, deciding to let Romanov explain when she came back. Phil wore a slightly guilty expression. "I gave you a sedative so we could remove the bullets and stitch you up. Didn't want to risk other agents."

Barnes nodded. "And Jemma? Is she al'right?"

It seemed the Brooklyn accent was coming back in full force, a complete 180 degrees from the Russian he spoke minutes before. May assumed it wouldn't be the last time he'd phase in and out like that. She met his worried eyes. "She's fine. She should be waking up within the hour."

"You have questions then?"

Phil nodded again. "We do, but I thought you might want to change into some fresh clothes." He set the bundle of clothes next to him and made a gesture to the still blood caked metal arm. "I can also have our mechanical engineer get some cleaning tools for your arm if you want."

The second statement had him staring at the arm for a moment. "Is his name Leopold Fitz?"

May raised an eyebrow, but Phil didn't seem fazed. "Yes. Is there something wrong?"

"No, it's just…Jemma mentioned him a few times." His brow furrowed as he continued to stare at the arm, mechanical whirling and humming sounding from within as the fingers twitched.

There was something else though. May noticed the tense set of his shoulders, almost as if he were preparing himself for a strike. Her stomach rolled. "Fitz won't hurt you, Barnes."

"But I hurt her." He lowered his head. "I should be punished."

The flatness of the last few words had her hackles rising. It sounded rehearsed like he'd been told it before. How many times had he been punished? "Fitz trusts Jemma's judgment, Barnes. He won't hurt you."

"We'll give him a tranquilizer gun," Phil said after a moment. "He's a decent shot."

Barnes nodded. "Okay."

May and Phil left the room to give him some semblance of privacy. "What did they to do him, Phil?"

"I can't imagine… He's been a prisoner of HYDRA for nearly seventy years. We can at least give him peace of mind." Phil shrugged. "If that means arming Fitz, then so be it."

"You think he's ready for that? He just got Jemma back."

Phil opened the door to Jemma's medical suite. "Barnes saved Jemma…he'll do it."

May watched Phil tap Fitz on the shoulder. Fitz looked back to Jemma for moments, wringing his hands. He seemed to think it through before asking Phil why him. For a moment she was wondering the same thing, but Barnes had asked for him. Mack would most definitely put Barnes on edge, whereas Fitz was on the other end of the spectrum. Plus Fitz had worked closely with Jemma for years, meaning Jemma trusted him…and Barnes trusted Jemma. She wasn't really surprised to see Fitz nod and take the ICER from Phil.

"He's going to grab his things," Phil said once he reached her side. "He wants you with him."

May nodded and before she left, snuck a glance at Jemma. In the week since the video, she'd managed to put color back into her cheeks. She was still too underweight for her liking. The bruises were dark on her ivory skin and when she looked closer to ones around her throat, she remembered what Barnes had said. Did he cause all these injuries? May felt anger rise for a moment before remembering Barnes saying he should be punished and it faded. Clearly, he was unstable and unpredictable at times and Jemma was probably the only one around…

"I'm ready May." Fitz's voice was steady.

"Let's go then."


	14. Questioning

James stared at the bundle of clothes for a moment before slowly getting off the bed. He managed to pull on the pants without a problem but putting on the tight black tank top pulled at the stitches in his back, stomach, and shoulder. He ground his teeth as the pain slowly faded and had just pulled the hem of the shirt over the bandages wrapped around his torso when the door opened. His body went rigid as the young man entered the room.

Leopold Fitz's startled gaze met his and James didn't miss the fear that came into his eyes for a moment. Not that James blamed him, HYDRA hadn't done him any favors... Melinda May walked in behind him, her expression almost as unreadable as his own, and flicked her dark eyes in James' direction. Fitz set his bag of tools on a rolling table and moved it so James could rest his arm palm up on the table. His hands trembled as he dug through the bag, the first sign of the brain damage he suffered at the hands of Grant Ward making its appearance.

"Can...can your uh..." He motioned to the arm. "Can it get..." The man's brows furrowed as he tried to think of the word, hands wringing in frustration. "Wet?"

Images flashed through his mind: Steve falling and falling...him diving in after him...pulling him out onto the bank...the painful moment before the man finally took a breath...With you to end of the line... He shook away the memories. "Yes."

Fitz rolled back the table and James followed suit as he walked to the sink, only a slight twinge as the stitches pulled at his skin. He held the arm under the faucet, watching as the water went from red to pink to clear. He then dried it off the best he could and walked back to the bed, setting his arm back onto the rolled table. He pulled out a few familiar looking tools. "Could I...uh remove the..."

"Do whatever you think needs done." He forced himself to sound sincere, even though there was a part of him that feared a punishment, that feared the shock of electricity up his arm and into his body... He didn't need to scare Fitz any more than he already was at the moment. He forced himself to stay absolutely still as the engineer took off the plating and exposed the inner workings of the arm.

It was actually pretty fascinating to get look at the arm considering every other time he had either been drugged or in Soldier mode. The Soldier didn't care about what made his arm work, never got fascinated by the chromed coated wiring, gears, or circuits. Bucky Barnes at one time had been so enamored with science and technology and he couldn't help but give a little smile as he wiggled his uncovered fingers, giving Fitz a small scare. "Sorry 'bout scaring ya kid."

Melinda raised an eyebrow at the word 'kid' but relaxed as Fitz actually smiled before taking the container full of metal pieces and filling it with water. He seemed in his element as he methodically cleaned and polished each piece before attaching them without a single tremor. If anything the arm looked better than it had in decades, probably because the engineer cared about more than just functionality. He rotated his wrist and bent his arm, listening to the familiar humming. "Thanks."

He shrugged as he put away the tools. "Anything for saving Jemma."

James froze, remembering her screams as he took the mission to kill her team, her family. Or the scream as he broke the bones in her wrist. Or even her cries of pain as he hit her on Volkov's orders… He looked away for a moment, thinking about how her touch brought James to the surface. "Pretty sure it was other way around."

He received another quirked eyebrow from Melinda before she had Fitz clear out his tools and take them back to his bunkers. He stood there, watching the young man leave the room before looking at Melinda. He remembered her from that 'message' weeks ago, how cold her eyes were or the smile that promised only pain… He could see shadows of himself in that expression and knew that this woman had seen horrors that weren't present in the reports Volkov had had him read…

Someone spoke into her comms and she nodded, turning to him. "Agent Romanov would like to speak to you. She'll be here shortly."

He nodded and as she left, he caught flashes of red hair in his mind. He remembered vaguely a young red-headed girl with eyes as cold as clean cut emeralds who grew into a young adolescent at the top of her class who finally transformed into a Black Widow. There was more he knew, a few missions before he was put back on ice and then nothing until desert heat and the bridge…Bucky?...Who the hell is Bucky?...Shit his head hurt. He rubbed at his temples, hoping to stave off the pain, but then he felt her approach, a silent shadow.

"Memories bugging you?"

He released his head and looked up, ignoring the steady throbbing in his brain. She may have aged, but James could still remember the young girl, could still see her in those dark green eyes. "Yeah, a little."

Those eyes looked him over. "They really did a number on you." She shrugged, perching herself on the edge of the bed he had just occupied. "Nothing compared to what you did to them though."

He didn't expect disgust or horror from her, not when she'd seen and done things just as bad. There was admiration though. Admiration for destroying those who had had a hand in destroying him, something he wasn't sure she had done yet. What he said was delivered with the voice of the Soldier. "They deserved it."

"No argument there, but why did you come here?"

"I was sent on a mission to bring in Coulson and Agent Skye alive…and kill everyone else. They already have the coordinates and I know that HYDRA won't stop until they've taken this base down and everyone in it." He ground his teeth, his head still throbbing. "I can't let that happen."

"What about after?"

He knew where this line of questioning was leading. " 'm not ready to talk to Steve…at least not yet."

"I'm going to have to call him in if HYDRA is as big a threat as you think. We need all the help we can get." She motioned to the door. "People here think you should be put in a cell instead of fighting. That you're too much of risk to use against your former handlers."

"They're probably right."

"Stop with the self-deprecating bullshit." Her eyes were hard. "There'll be time for it later. Right now you need to go and answer their questions, prove to them that they can trust you."

"And letting them know the extent of my fucked up mind is supposed to do that?"

"You think my mind is much better than yours?" Her lips were pulled into a tight line.

He remembered the tactics used in the Red Room. "You've been out for a while. I've been out for barely a week and…the Soldier's made himself known more times than I would like. My grasp on him is slippery at best."

"Then work with him. Give the Asset a new mission."

"It's not that easy Natalia and you know it."

She stiffened. "I go by Natasha now."

"I'll always remember you as Natalia." He gave her a once over.

"I'm not that little girl anymore. She's a ghost." Her voice was clipped.

"So was Bucky Barnes…he's a part of me as much as the Winter Soldier. Just as Natalia will always be a part of you."

"You're a sap." Her lips twitched in a ghost of a smile.

He response dies on his lips as the door opened, revealing Melinda May and Bobbi Morse. Both wore stony expressions and he sighed as he got his feet. "Well then, let's get this show on the road." He heard Natalia scoff as the door shut behind him. He was escorted into an interrogation room, Phil Coulson sitting a role from an empty chair.

The room was of decent size, about ten by ten, with only two metal chairs and a table. There were no restraints, but all agents in the room had at least one firearm on their person. As he sat down, he could sense no hostility from Phil Coulson. James decided to rest both hands on the table for the sake of May and Morse. "Where do ya wanna start?" He allowed the Brooklyn to bleed through. The flatness of the Soldier would only put them on edge…

"From the fall in '45. Just tell us what you can remember."

Even though his head still hurt from the wave of memories before, he forced himself back. The beginning was the hardest for him as told them about the procedures, the erasing, the beatings. He allowed the Soldier to take away the emotional pain, if only for a little bit. He watched the blood drain from their faces as continued his story, drudging up missions from decades past and ending with the previous fight on the dirt road only hours before.

Coulson had been calm in the beginning but now had his jaw clenched in anger. Morse's eyes were hard as she stared at him and May wore that same dark expression. They didn't trust him it seemed. Not really surprising though…he'd seen it coming a mile away. He tensed as Coulson rose to his feet.

"Sergeant Barnes, you may go see Simmons."

That didn't surprise him either. Coulson, like Steve, only saw Bucky Barnes, not the monster that laid beneath. He didn't miss the disbelieving looks from Morse and May. They were not happy with him… "Thank you, Sir."

Coulson nodded.

James didn't waste any time exiting the room and wasn't shocked to find Natalia leaning back against the wall with little expression on her face. "Morse and May didn't agree with Coulson I presume?"

"No, they did not."

"Well then. I'll just have to convince them."

"I don't think you're their type, Natalia."

She rolled her eyes. "Shut up and go talk to Jemma. She's awake."


	15. Awake

She awoke to people arguing and a persistent throbbing in her head. She barely had time to take the familiar surroundings of the lab before everyone crowded her bedside. She couldn't stop the tears of joy that streamed from her eyes as she embraced Skye and Fitz. Mack and Hunter gave her warm smiles, but she noticed that Coulson, May, and Bobbi were all absent along with James and her joy faded a bit. "Where is he?" She knew the only person who could've brought her in was him. Jemma was met with guarded expressions.

"He's being interrogated." Skye finally spoke. "As long as he cooperates, he'll be fine."

Jemma nodded and sat back, taking everything in. She wanted to ask what had happened but she was sure the people who knew the answer to that question were not in the room. So she let Fitz and Skye babble about everything that had gone down in the most cheerful voices they could muster. Jemma didn't miss the not subtle comment about "Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome" and knew she would be getting the third degree from Skye when this was all over. The sound of the door opening had anyone facing the door freezing up and it wasn't until Mack cleared the doorway did she realize why.

Natasha Romanov, a.k.a. Black Widow, was leaning against the doorframe, her flaming hair in shoulder-length waves and green eyes shining with something unknown. Her eyes roamed over everyone in the room before focusing on her.

Jemma didn't know what it was with assassins, but her gaze was just as unnerving as James'…or more the Winter Soldier's was. Those green eyes were analyzing her and Jemma swallowed nervously, her pulse skyrocketing as she asked the others to leave the room. They didn't need to be told twice. Within moments, it was just the two of them.

"So you're Jemma?" Her voice was smooth, controlled.

Her bandaged hand played with the hem of the blanket and Jemma swallowed past the lump in her throat. "Yes."

Natasha walked across the lab, her eyes sweeping over the equipment. With ease, she perched herself on one of the few spots without junk cluttering it. Her movements reminded Jemma of a panther or jaguar, lean muscles bunching under the black suit with every step. She may have appeared to be at ease, but was ready for action at a moment's notice. She motioned to the cast. "Yasha did quite a number on you didn't he?"

"The Soldier did it, not James."

A red eyebrow arched. "The Soldier _is_ James."

Jemma decided it would be better not to argue with the assassin. "Did you know him?"

"A long time ago." She looked down. "He's different now."

Jemma had had her suspicions. The Soviet star on James' arm hinted at Russian involvement and it was a known fact that the Black Widow was from Russia as well. Two assassins of their caliber were bound to run into each other from time to time, but she had called him Yasha, the Russian variant of James. Jemma knew that was all she would be getting, from either of them…

"He helped train me." Natasha's lips twitched at her shocked reaction. "He was a good teacher and he was not as cruel as the rest, but that isn't the only question you want to ask was it?"

"What happened after…?"

"He took out those that followed. A second vehicle had shown up while he was fighting the first. Once everyone was dead he carried you here." She smiled then. "Gave everyone quite a shock, him covered in blood and carrying you. Coulson nearly swooned."

"You knew about Coulson?"

Natasha didn't comment on the swift change of topics. She shrugged. "I had my suspicions. No one can stay dead around here apparently and before you ask…only Barton knows."

"You're not going to tell the others?"

"Not my secret to tell. Besides, there are more pressing matters."

"What will happen to him?"

"Steve will want to talk to him. That idiot's been scouring the whole damn planet for his friend. I'll have Coulson vacate before I call him in." Her head cocked to the side for a second before she slid off the counter and opened the door to a worn James.

He narrowed his eyes. "Natalia?"

Jemma saw the genuine smile curl the woman's lips. "Yasha."

The name elicited a rare smile, but there was guilt in his eyes. The same guilt he had as he checked her cast the day before. He had hurt her too…

She only squeezed his shoulder (the metal one) and left the room.

Those blue eyes met hers once again and noticed the darkening shadows under them. He'd changed out of the bloodied clothes and was now dressed in simple blue tee and jeans, both of which were a bit small (not that she minded). She took a guess that these were Hunter's given that they were similar in size. The shirt made those eyes even more prominent if that were even possible and they gravitated to the bruising and the cast. "How are you feeling?"

"I'll be okay…you?"

He clenched his jaw. "Fine."

Not wanting to push him, she only nodded. Slowly pushing herself up, she couldn't help notice his flinch at her struggle. Surprisingly, he let her do it herself. She motioned to the end of the bed. "You can sit down if you want."

His eyes flitted to the open space and back to her before he sat down, putting his head in his hands. He didn't move for what felt like hours when it was really only minutes, the monitoring equipment the only sound in the room. His arm didn't even make a sound and if it weren't for the fact that the metal hand was clenched into a fist, she'd thought they'd deactivated it or something…

"James?"

"You know when we crashed… _he_ came out." He ran his fingers through his hair. "He tore them apart and he enjoyed it. At the end they even begged for mercy, begged to be spared. The Soldier shows no mercy." His voice had been cold the entire time, but by the end, his flesh hand had begun to tremor. He clenched it into a fist, those eyes staring at the door as if expecting more to come pouring through at any minute. "There were even a few that wanted to kill you to set an example." The cold smile that curled his lips had her heart stuttering. "So I made them an example."

"James…"

"I didn't tell them that of course…your team's already terrified of me as it is…The big bad HYDRA assassin out to kill S.H.I.E.L.D."

"James!" She couldn't help the way her voice rose. "Stop talking about yourself like that!"

"Why not? I'm a fucking monster." He growled. "They should be scared."

"Just give them time James. They just need time."

He scoffed, pushing himself to his feet. "We don't exactly have the luxury of time. HYDRA will come for them and for me and your _superiors_ are too busy fucking arguing about what to do with me to worry about that threat. May and Morse want me in a cell."

"Coulson?"

"He believes me to be Bucky Barnes. I'm not that man anymore." He sighed. "If anyone can convince them though, it's Natalia." He spoke her name with a softness that said they were close or had been close at one time.

Jemma couldn't stop the small stab of jealousy. Who could compete with the Black Widow? "Bobbi and May aren't easily convinced." She returned to playing with the hem of the sheet.

"They'll listen to Coulson and Coulson will listen to her." He sat down once again at the end of the bed, taking her hand in his. "Besides I have a lovely doctor to vouch for me." He sent her a signature Bucky Barnes grin before pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

She blushed, not able to meet his teasing gaze. The sudden switch from coldness to anger to flirting was confusing, to say the least. She smiled though, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. The flirting wasn't bad though…at least she knew how to somewhat respond to that.

"There's that smile." The grin fell when the door opened and he set her hand back on the bed, once again donning the detached look. "What's the verdict?"

Coulson appeared in the doorway. "You're a valuable asset against HYDRA and I don't think Captain Rogers would appreciate you being locked in a cell."

He cringed at the word asset, but his eyes warmed at the mention of his old friend. "S'good to know that the punk still has fans."

"Romanov called in Rogers so I'll be leaving for a few hours." Coulson turned to leave. "Leave my base in one piece."

"No promises."

Jemma jumped slightly when Natasha spoke. She hadn't even heard the woman enter. She watched Coulson leave and Jemma was once again left with the two assassins. They were having a quiet conversation in Russian so she allowed herself to lie back and close her eyes, savoring the calm before the storm. She opened her eyes and sat up when they switched to English.

"I'll give you two a moment."

Jemma waited until the door shut to speak. "What was that about?"

"Natalia will be guarding you and before you argue, I know HYDRA will try to activate the Soldier. If they're successful, she'll distract him long enough for you to get your team and run…"

"What? No James…Captain Rogers will get here. He'll protect everyone from you."

"He's at least thirty minutes out and they'll be here in less." He took her face in his hands, cool metal and warmth on her skin. "I can't take the chance that I'll hurt you."

She opened her mouth to argue but found his lips covering her own. The kiss was gentle and warm, such a contrast to the cold, hard metal cupping her jaw. Her heart rate grew frantic and she closed her eyes as he deepened the kiss and she could taste the black coffee on his tongue. Her hand had just reached up to cup his jaw when he pulled back, electing a small moan in protest.

"I _can't_ lose you." His darkened eyes were pleading with her. "Just run."

She could only nod as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and left the room. She didn't respond to Natasha's raised eyebrow at her flushed face and swollen lips. She once again returned to playing with the hem, her hands needing something to do. "When will they be here?"

"ETA is…" She pressed a finger to the comms and her face grew stern. The base shook as an explosion sounded. "Now."


	16. The Attack

"Where's the team?"

"Agents Mack, Fitz, and Skye are on board the Quinjet. The rest are engaging. Rogers will be here in ten." Her response was automatic, almost as though she wasn't entirely listening to Jemma. Or it could've been the gunshots sounding as her team met HYDRA…

Everything went quiet and Natasha stiffened, her eyes glazing over for a moment before turning to pull Jemma from the bed. "Everyone retreat to the Quinjet. The Soldier is awake. I repeat the Soldier is awake."

Jemma's heart dropped at the statement. James had been right in his assumption. The Soldier was in control now and he would kill on sight. She wobbled once on her feet, the pain in her head flaring, causing her to stagger. Natasha didn't give her any time to recover before she wrenched open the door and pulled Jemma after her, their footsteps sounding loud in the empty hallway. It felt like déjà vu as they rounded the corner and saw the Soldier walking slowly down the hallway, a gun raised towards them.

Natasha was the first to fire, clipping his leg. She shoved Jemma back the way they came, but not before shoving a small metal object into Jemma's hand. A bullet from the Soldier's gun whizzed by her head and embedded itself in the wall. Both Glocks in hand, she began to fire.

Jemma watched in horrified awe as they fought each other, student versus teacher. It was like a dance, a deadly one with guns and knives. The Soldier's quick brutal strikes were being reflected with the Widow's equally graceful and brutal hits. With a well-placed kick, the Soldier's gun skidded across the floor and out of his reach. He didn't need a gun though and effortlessly transitioned into the daggers he seemed to pull from thin air. Realizing her error, Jemma turned and ran down the hallway. She hardly faltered as the Widow cried out, but her mind was a mess. What would the Soldier have to do to elect that sound from one of the toughest assassins in the world?

She forced herself to calm down, to remember the layout of the base and realized with a groan that she was taking the long way to the hanger where the Quinjet was currently stationed. Her vision was growing a little blurry as the throbbing in her head turned into a sharp pain that sent her staggering to support herself. The only thing that pushed her forward was the familiar whirling and humming of _his_ arm as it came closer. She burst through the doors of the lab and quickly scanned the counter for anything that could possibly slow him down when she spotted an EMP generator lying on the counter farthest from her. Would that disable his arm long enough to help her get away?

He walked slowly down the hallway, a slight limp as blood ran down his leg and Jemma noticed a gunshot wound to the shoulder. His cold eyes focused on her, a familiar Glock being leveled at her.

She ran, grabbing the device and pressing down on the button a moment before he pulled the trigger. She watched his metal arm freeze and become unresponsive, sending off his aim as he staggered slightly. She also watched as the bullet cut through the air and tore into her chest, her white shirt slowly turning crimson. The pain didn't register, not at first…not until she watched the deadness shatter in the Soldier's eyes as she tried to grip the edge of the counter only to slide to the floor, pressing a shaking hand to the wound. Her lungs burned as blood began to pool in them and she coughed, tasting copper in her mouth.

Tears were streaming down James' face as he laid a hand over hers, red dripping between their fingers. "No no no no no…Jemma you need to stay awake." His bit down on his lip as another cough racked her body.

"James…" She coughed, more blood dripping from her lips and reached up to cup his jaw, the skin becoming smeared with red. Her vision was becoming dim around the edges. She couldn't go yet. She had to memorize his blue eyes, to count the different shades… "I'm sorry…"

"Don't apologize…" His metal arm was regaining function. Blood was dripping between his fingers and he pressed an urgent kiss to her lips, to pull her back from the edge of unconsciousness. "Just stay with me…I can't lose you голубушка."

"I'll never…" She choked out and managed a smile. "I'll never leave you." She knew even as she said the words that her body was already beginning to shut down. Her limbs became heavy as she tried to blink away the blurriness and even the pain was becoming less severe. She could no longer feel him applying pressure or taste the blood on her lips.

He was saying her name, but his voice couldn't pierce the darkness that was swallowing her whole. She longed to tell him that everything was going to be okay, that he would be with Steve and become the man that she had seen in him all along. She wanted to taste his lips one last time…to feel the touch of _both_ his hands over her skin. She wanted to tell him that even as she lay bleeding out in his arms from an injury he caused that she hadn't felt more at home. None of these words made it past her laden tongue. His horrified, guilt-ridden expression was the last thing she saw before her sight finally went along with any thought of him…


	17. Lock Up

Hearing the single gunshot ring out, everyone ran to the doorway of the lab, eyes wide in horror and shock at the sight before them.

Melinda May had seen some horrible things in her life and there were only two other events that affected her as much as seeing the Winter Soldier cradling Jemma's lifeless body to his chest. This man, less than an hour earlier, had been like a blank slate, those icy eyes showing little if none emotion as he relayed every horrible thing HYDRA had ever done to him and to S.H.I.E.L.D over the last few decades (what he remembered anyways). Now he was broken, tears streaming from vacant eyes, his voice cracking as he muttered something in Russian. Blood was smeared along his jaw in an all too familiar shape. No one dared approach him in this state.

Natasha Romanov limped in, cradling an obviously broken arm against her chest. She looked beaten to hell, but she forced herself to kneel next to Barnes. Her green eyes filled with genuine sadness for her friend and for Jemma. Without startling him, she felt for Jemma's pulse and looked up at Melinda. "It's there, but fading fast."

"Give her to me."

Captain America spoke from the doorway and it took Melinda a moment to realize that he had had the others leave the room. His suit was covered in dirt and grime, his shield a little worse for wear. His clear blue eyes were pained and by the way he had set his jaw, May could see him holding his emotions at bay, like the true soldier he was.

"He's not letting anyone else near her."

He ignored Natasha's clipped warning and crouched a few feet away from him. "Bucky it's me, Steve." He wasn't perturbed by a lack of reaction. "You need to let me help her. Come on pal."

Barnes finally looked up and Melinda was floored by the familiar vacant expression that she herself had worn at one time. The tears had finally stopped and when he opened his mouth, all that came out was "Steve?"

"Hey, Buck…" Rogers' voice cracked and he gave him a watery smile. "Let me take Jemma. I can help her."

"My fault…" Barnes was shaking his head as he tightened his hold on her. "I did this…"

Rogers swallowed. "Listen, Bucky. Her heart's still beatin'. You can make this right. Give her to me and I'll make sure she gets the best care." He laid a hand on Barnes' shoulder and squeezed. "Let me help."

Barnes looked down at Jemma, metal hand brushing a strand from her face and May saw the hesitation as he handed her to Rogers. She noticed the slight tremor in both his hands before he gained control of himself. He turned to Romanov and spoke in Russian, and May tried to read the woman's expression when she responded. Looking away she caught Rogers on the way out. "Nearest hospital is seven miles away."

He steeled his jaw, adjusted Jemma's limp form in his arms before taking off at a dead sprint that was the stuff of legend. She read his file and May knew he could run to the hospital faster than almost any mode of transportation they had on hand, except maybe the jet. But the jet had taken some serious hits from the HYDRA agents.

"What's your most secure cell?" Natasha was still kneeling next to Barnes, who had once again returned to his unresponsive state.

"The Cage on the Bus…walls are made of a silicon-carbide Vibranium alloy. He'll be secure."

The redhead nodded, pulling Barnes to his feet and guiding him towards the Bus.

…

"He asked for _what_?" Phil's usually calm voice rose.

Natasha didn't seem phased. "He wants me to trigger the Soldier."

May's eyebrows rose. She looked at the screen, watching Barnes sit on the floor with his head is his hands. He still wore the blood saturated clothes and Melinda could the see the bullet wounds oozing. She knew he had refused treatment or at least that's all she got before he switched to Russian. The only person he had talked to after that was Natasha and even then it would be short clipped responses.

She understood all too well what it was like to want to retreat inward, to shut off the emotions because it hurt too much…the Soldier was his way of doing that. Rogers could only say that Simmons was still in surgery and since Barnes refused to talk or listen to anyone, telling him that was going to be difficult. Natasha knew better than to get his hopes up though and May respected that.

"Has Captain Rogers been notified of this plan?"

"He doesn't want Steve to know." Was Natasha's clipped response.

May had put together that to two assassins had had a history and it was evident in her tone why Barnes didn't want his old friend to know. Rogers wouldn't understand. He was a soldier, not an assassin. He took lives to protect others, but the Black Widow and the Winter Soldier took lives to satisfy their handlers. They took innocent lives, women and children included. They had a darkness that had seeped into them so long ago that they had been transformed into weapons. Rogers was and still is the epitome of honor and valor, of light…the opposite of them.

Phil seemed to put this together as well because he sighed, running a hand down his face as he sat back down at his desk. "Any word on Jemma?"

"Still in surgery."

He looked at the monitor and took a breath. "Can he break his…programming?"

"Only if we use another trigger."

Phil met Natasha's eyes. "I'm assuming you know that one as well."

"Of course." She adjusted the sling for her arm, motioning toward the monitor. "May I?"

May watched Natasha speak a single word. The transformation was instantaneous and May felt the hairs on her neck stand on end as he slowly stood and stared with dead pale blue eyes at the camera. This was the Winter Soldier… She looked over at Phil's disturbed expression that probably mirrored her own.

"None of your team may enter. Once he sees them he will kill them, even if it means harming himself and he won't stop until his mission is complete or he's dead…Now go to Jemma. I will watch him."

May could've sworn she saw sadness in the woman's eyes before they returned to the cool detachment she was famous for. With a parting glance at the Soldier and the Widow, she prepped an SUV to leave.


	18. The Hospital

The drive there was horribly silent and May for once wanted someone… _anyone_ to start talking. She wanted the quiet broken by technological babble or sarcastic quips, but the people who were usually so talkative were clutching each other as if the world was ending and for them it probably was. Phil caught her glance in the rearview mirror and gave her the smallest of smiles.

He, of course, ignored the fact that Captain Rogers would see him and was willing to risk the others finding out for the sake of Jemma…that man was really stupid sometimes. Melinda wasn't going to argue this with him, couldn't really. He'd been such a mess after their 'message' from Doctor Volkov and she knew he wanted to be by her side. "Call her parents?"

"They just left London. Should be here in about four hours."

"That soon?" A normal flight from their current location would take twice that long. She understood a moment later. "Romanov called Stark didn't she?"

"God no. She called Barton, he took the Quinjet."

"What'd he tell them?" She relaxed when Barton's name was mentioned. He knew how to fly under the radar, to handle delicate situations with care. She returned her focus to the road. They didn't need any more injuries today.

"The truth. That she was shot by a HYDRA agent trying to protect her team."

She hid her shock. "How did that go?"

His crestfallen expression spoke volumes and once again the car was silent as they pulled into the hospital parking lot. They quickly made their way into the emergency room and the receptionist looked up. Her expression turned grim as she stood up and guided them into a private waiting room where Captain Rogers sat with his head in his hands.

He hadn't changed out of his blood covered uniform and his hair looked as though he'd run his hands through it multiple times. He did just that as he sighed. "She's still 'n surgery."

May watched his tired eyes widen when he finally looked up and met Coulson's gaze. The weariness went away in a heartbeat, replaced with suspicious anger and shock as his face paled for a moment before flushing an angry red. May fought the urge to back away as he got in Phil's face. No way she wanted to be on the end of that expression…

"How?"

"Alien blood. Ask Fury for the details." Phil didn't look away. "How is my friend?"

May could see the Captain compartmentalizing, pushing away his feelings for the sake of the other agents watching the confrontation. She noticed Bobbi and Hunter tense up. She warded them with one look. The hospital didn't need a brawl right now. _They_ didn't need it right now. "As I said. Still in surgery. They were able to remove the bullet, but…there were complications." He spared a glance at the huddled forms of Skye and Fitz on a nearby couch. "She coded twice and the internal bleeding was severe. And I honestly didn't understand most of the medical talk, but what I got was if the bullet had been a few centimeters to the left she would be dead."

"They told you this?"

He shook his head and tapped his ear. "Heard it."

A chill crept down her spine. "She's lucky."

He shook his head. "No. Somethin' happened. The Winter Soldier doesn't miss."

"Are you all here for Jemma Simmons?"

The sound of the doctor's voice had everyone on their feet. The young woman was shocked to find Captain America standing a few feet from her, but managed to school her expression if only slightly. "She's stable for now."

"For now?" Skye had finally spoken, her voice cracking. "What do you mean for now?"

"The damage done to her lung is extensive and she needs to be on a ventilator until she can safely breathe on her own. We're continuing blood transfusions and she will be under heavy sedation. The next twenty-four to forty-eight hours will be touch 'n go."

"C-can-can we see h-her?" Fitz stuttered out,

his hands trembling.

May grew sad as she looked at the other half of the science duo. He'd improved much since everything with Ward went down. The tragedy with Jemma had set him back months and she watched Skye take his trembling hands with her own. Like her S.O., she was keeping her emotions in check, keeping her powers in check. They'd had a close call when the message had come through and May was proud of the young woman for bouncing back as she did, but there was a cracking in her visage…

"Yeah." The doctor motioned for the group to follow her in a somber procession.

The young woman lying on the hospital bed was not the exuberant young scientist she had come to know. Her ivory skin was a sickly grey, covered in healing bruises of all shades. Her cheeks were sunken in and May struggled not to notice the layers of hand shaped bruises around her slim throat. IVs were bringing fluids and blood into her body, along with the ventilator that was breathing for her.

May allowed Skye and Fitz some time alone when she stepped out into the hallway and took a deep breath as rage pulsed within her. It was almost parallel to what Quinn did to Skye, except she didn't have anyone she could hit, no one she could blame. The man who had done this to her was a broken assassin and had already been through so much. He didn't deserve her anger or blame. She clenched and unclenched her fists as the door to Simmons' room opened as she caught the sound of the ventilator pumping in time with Jemma's slow heartbeat.

"This isn't the first time is it?" Steve Rogers spoke as he leaned back against the opposite wall, his arms folded across his broad chest. Compassionate blue eyes stared into hers.

She looked away from his gaze. "Nor yours I'm assuming."

"I remember every one of them…" His right hand twitched, probably wanting his shield. "She seems like a nice girl…Jemma."

"She is." She looked up at him. He seemed to want to ask her something but didn't want to incur her anger or irritation. It was almost laughable. She raised an eyebrow. "Something you want to ask?"

He pursed his lips for a moment. "What did HYDRA want with her?"

"Jemma Simmons is a biochemist with two Ph. Ds. She has knowledge on alien biology that HYDRA thought would be useful for their…experiments." She paused, remembering Barnes' describing an asset that they forced Jemma to cut up while they tortured him. Would she ever be the same after that? "She actually went undercover in HYDRA a few months ago to gather intel."

"Smart girl." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Know how Buck's doin'?"

She was almost glad for the change of topics….almost. Not wanting to incur the Captain's anger she shook her head. "He asked to be put in our most secure cell, but I don't know anything else. He wouldn't speak to anyone else in English after you left. You'll have to ask Romanov, she's watching him."

He nodded. "Makes sense." He pushed himself off the wall and sent a small smile her way. "Let me know when she wakes up. I wanna talk to her."

The request was honest. He wanted to know the woman who had brought his friend back to him. She returned the nod and watched him disappear around the corner before returning to Jemma's room.

Fitz was holding a limp bandaged hand, running a thumb across her knuckles. Skye leaned on Fitz, her head lying in the crook of his shoulder. Both teary eyed agents looked up as she entered only to return to Jemma a moment later. She joined Coulson on the other side, who was looking down at her with one the guiltiest looking expressions she'd seen on him. She laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

He finally noticed her, his blue eyes weary. "What'd he say?"

"Wanted to know how Barnes was doing. Told him to talk to Natasha."

He nodded. "Can you check in with Barton? I need to talk to Hill."

"I can."

"Thanks. I'll let you know if anything happens." She grabbed Skye's attention as the door shut. "Could I see your tablet?"

"Sure." She unlocked it before handing it off. "Here you go."

May walked back out into the hallway before contacting the jet. It only took a few moments before the connection was established and Barton's face came on.

"Well isn't it the Cavalry…" He flipped a few switches. "Checkin' up on me?"

She sighed as that accursed name slipped through his lips. He was one of the few who could get away with calling her that. "What's your ETA?"

"Pretty sure I'm breakin' a couple dozen air regulations, but we should be there within the hour."

"How they holding up?"

His expression dimmed as he spared a glance. "Mother hasn't said a word. Father's pacing a rut into the floor. Any updates on her condition?"

"She's out of surgery. Bullet missed her heart by inches…she's damn lucky."

He only nodded. "I'll let you know when we land." The feed cut and May went back into the room to return the tablet and in that time, both agents had fallen asleep with their heads at Jemma's feet. Putting the tablet back into the bag, she left the room, her anger renewed. She needed to hit something…


	19. Reassurance

Jemma's climb to conscious was like swimming from the depths of the ocean, the darkness was cold and oppressive as she tried to claw her way out. She needed to wake up…needed to see if everyone was okay, but her body just sunk deeper in the depths where nothing hurt. She almost let it happen, but then light pierced the shadows with a warmth even her body couldn't ignore and she finally opened her eyes.

She was assaulted by white, the sound of beeping and pumping loud in her ears and she panicked when she couldn't draw a breath. Her chest burned when she tried to breathe. Everything hurt…She had to breathe, she needed to breathe. She slowly reached up to her throat but found IVs tugging on her left arm, her other arm weighed down by a cast. She felt hands push her arms down. Remembering her nightmare, she began to struggle and Jemma had to blink a few times to realize that the man standing over her was wearing a SHIELD tactical vest with a quiver strapped to his back. Was that…?

"Agent Barton?" Her voice sounded gravelly.

"Just Barton…or Hawkeye. Either one works." He gave her an amused look when she sat back with a groan. "You've been out for a couple of days."

Memories…images flashed through her mind of the minutes before she lost consciousness. Running. Pain. Blue eyes and a flash of chromed metal. A gunshot… "Oh God…where is he? Where's James?" She didn't think to lower her voice until she started coughing and the pain in her chest flared up, originating from the point the bullet tore into her.

"Calm down…just calm down. He's fine. Tasha and Cap are watching him. Just breathe."

She nodded, trying to regulate her breathing, but the pain was making it hard. The machines must've notified the staff because two nurses rushed in to access the problem. After giving her some morphine to numb the pain, she was able to breathe, albeit shallower than before.

"Oh thank God! Jemma you're awake!"

Jemma was quickly surrounded by her mum's perfume and father's aftershave as they hugged her. She couldn't stop the tears. She hadn't seen her parents in what felt like forever and she couldn't help but let out a joyful laugh. "Mum…Dad…I've missed you so much."

"My dear girl." Her mother's voice cracked and she pressed a kiss to her forehead, familiar hazel eyes brimming with tears. "My dear sweet girl…"

Jemma couldn't help but flinch as her mum's voice morphed into the ever-calm voice of Doctor Volkov. _How did you do my dear…my dear…my dear…_ She tried to shake the voice from her head, the movement bringing frowns to her parents' faces, but she couldn't. She couldn't forget him…or what he made her do… Oh god… _Anna_ …What would her parents think? What would they say if they knew? They needed to get away from her…she needed the room. Shutting her eyes only brought her back to that cell… _Come on my dear. We have something important for you…_

She vaguely noticed Barton usher her parents away and tell them to grab the doctor. She felt hid callused hand wrap around her shaking one and squeeze.

"You are safe Jemma. Volkov is dead. He can't hurt you anymore." Another gentle squeeze. "You are safe. Your team is safe. James is safe."

 _James…_ The name drew her back from her panic long enough to notice that there was now a woman standing by her side. She tried to calm the pulse pounding in her ears so she could hear the questions being asked.

"What is your name?" The woman, or Doctor Hartman, asked.

"Jemma Simmons."

"Good. What year is it?" She was now shining a penlight in her eyes.

"2015."

"What are your parents' names?"

"Elizabeth and Robert Simmons."

"Okay, what is the last thing you remember?"

"I was running..." She looked over at Barton and he shook his head. No talking about HYDRA or James. Made sense. "I was shot in the chest."

"Do you remember what the shooter looked like?"

"I can't really remember much." She hoped that the lie wasn't as see through to the doctor as it seemed to her. "It was a dark haired man I think…" Her heart rate increased at the line of questioning and hope it would be contributed to fear at remembering instead of flat out lying. "Are my friends here?"

The change in topic was by no means subtle, but Doctor Hartman only smiled. "They are. Would you like me to tell them you're awake?"

She swallowed and nodded, looking down at her lap. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking, and she forced a smile to her face when Skye and Fitz came into the room. Tears built in her eyes as she embraced her friends and they overflowed when both of their shoulders start shaking. There were no words, just silent tears that spoke of all the emotions bouncing around in her skull. They stayed like that until her eyes finally ran dry and both of them pulled back.

Looking up, she saw Barton and Romanov standing in the doorway, whispering quietly. Barton's face, she noticed, was set in a grim expression as Romanov spoke to him.

Jemma noticed the former assassin was sporting a sling for her left arm, a number of stitches across her forehead, and a split lip. She started to run her eyes down the length of the woman's body only to realize she was wearing her Black Widow uniform that covered most of her skin. It was no surprise that Jemma was caught looking. Romanov's green eyes met her, giving no hint as to what emotions she was feeling.

She quickly averted her eyes, a blush warming her checks when she realized she was caught. Both Skye and Fitz noticed this exchange with wide eyes and she knew there would be questions whenever the two Avengers left.

"What happened Jemma?" Skye asked when she finally pulled her eyes away from Barton and Romanov. Skye's drive to know everything pushed the worry about James away from a moment.

"He wanted Natasha watching me in case he…changed. He cut off our route to the jet, so Natasha told me to run. She somehow managed to attach something to his arm and gave me the device to activate it. I ran into the lab and…well you know the rest."

Skye didn't seem to comment on the use of Natasha's name and only gave a half-hearted smile. "Did you know Captain America carried you to the hospital?"

"He _what_?"

"Yup." Skye's grin was in full force. "Picked you up and ran to the hospital. It was amazing really."

Jemma was glad for Skye's fangirling. It gave her something to _really_ smile about, if only for a moment. She laid her head back, trying to focus on her friends' reactions to meeting the super soldier and spies. She vaguely heard Skye talking about how the Captain reacted to seeing Phil and Fitz talking about looking at some of Barton's trick arrows…

"Could I speak to Miss Simmons for a moment?" Conversation in the room stopped as Captain Rogers made his way into the room. Jemma didn't miss the dark look he sent Natasha nor the slightly saddened look she returned.

"See you later Jemma." Skye squeezed her hand free before taking Fitz, who gave a bright smile and leaving the room.

Barton left, but Natasha hung back. "Steve…"

"Not now Natasha."

The woman nodded before leaving.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before sitting the chair that Skye had occupied moments earlier. He had changed out of his uniform into SHIELD issue sweatpants and short sleeved shirt. "It's nice to finally meet you, Miss Simmons."

Still, in shock over his arrival, she nodded. "You can call me Jemma." She cursed the pain that flared through her chest as she tried to push herself up.

He was on his feet immediately. "Lemme do that." He pressed the button and held it until she was sitting upright. "That better?"

"Yes. Thank you, Captain."

"Just Steve." He smiled. "I should be the one thanking you…for bringing him back."

"Me?...I didn't…it was the other way around really." She swallowed. "He got me back to my team. He didn't want to stay though."

"Buck never could leave anyone defenseless. Saved my hide more times than I can remember." His blue shone with remembrance. "Called me a stupid punk."

Jemma couldn't help but remember the first time Bucky Barnes had shone through the Winter Soldier and she smiled. "He remembered you, among other things. We talked about them when the…others weren't around."

"What else did he remember?"

"You before the serum…the freeway incident…some of the procedure, but..." She saw his jaw clench at the last one. "He never told me the details though. I guess he was trying to protect me." She looked down at her lap, at the cast encasing her right hand.

"He's always been protective of those he cares for." Cap…Steve shrugged. "It's second nature to him…same as you." He chuckled at her stunned and flustered expression. "I talked to…Director Coulson. He told me how much you've done to protect your team. I'm assuming you did the same for him?"

"There was only so much I could though." Anna's face flashed through her mind. "They made me do things and if I didn't comply…"

"They would hurt him." He squeezed her shaking bandaged hand gently and Jemma didn't miss the anger that burned in those blue eyes. Those eyes were so much like James', there were shadows of guilt and regret flickering in the depths. They spoke of things best left unsaid, of horrors seen and mistakes made. These were the eyes of men out of time.

She didn't realize she was crying until he handed her a tissue. She took it with a thank you and wiped her eyes. "If it helps, he killed them all."

The smile that curled his lips wasn't warm. "Good."

"How is he by the way? Barton said you and Natasha were watching him…"

The man's expression faltered for a moment. "He asked to be put in the Cage."

The Cage made sense. He'd just recently broken through the Soldier and he'd shot her, but there was something in his tone. He may be as bad of a liar as her. "There's something else…you were mad at Natasha. What was that about?"

He swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Bucky he uh…he asked Natasha if she could trigger the Soldier…" He ground his teeth. "And she did."

"Trigger?" _I know HYDRA will try to activate the Soldier.._. _I can't take the chance that I'll hurt you…_ She put a hand to her mouth, tears resuming their descent down her cheeks. "Why?"

"He thought he killed you. She said he wanted it to stop."

"Wanted what to stop?"

"He always felt things so deeply you know? He loves with his whole heart and when he shot you…" He shook his head. "The anger, the sadness, the guilt…he didn't want to feel any of it." Tears were building up in his eyes as well. "The Winter Soldier doesn't feel anything."

"Can Natasha bring James back?"

Steve nodded. "She said she can, but she's not sure how long it will take for Bucky to completely come back to himself after the Soldier is…turned off." He blinked the tears back and sighed. "Damn idiot."

Jemma couldn't help but jump when the door opened. It was her parents, who wore identical expressions of worry then shock when they who else was in the room with her.

Ever the gentleman, Steve stood up and shook their hands. "Steve Rogers, a pleasure to meet you."

She listened as her parents profusely thanking him for saving their daughter's life, tears in her mother's hazel eyes. She should be happy that her parents were here instead of across the ocean or embarrassed that they were fawning over the super soldier, but she was still numb from the knowledge that the Soldier was in control. She looked down at her damaged hands and felt the constant throbbing in her chest that reminded her the times when James lost his claim on his own mind. Now he was locked in the body of the Soldier, unaware that she had survived the nearly fatal shot…that she was even alive.

"Jemma? You still with us?" Steve's tone was worried.

"Just thinking…" She looked over at her parents, then back at him. "Is there a chance I could see the current security footage?"

"You sure?"

"I'll go talk to Skye." He nodded to her mom and dad with a polite "Ma'am" and "Sir." before shutting the door behind him.

There was a long silence as her parents walked over to her. She didn't miss the way they walked on broken glass around her like she would crack at any second. They weren't totally false in their worry. She wasn't sure how put together she was at the moment. "You can talk you know."

Her mother's response was cut off when Doctor Hartman walked in and began checking the monitors.

"I'm sorry, but visiting hours will be over in a few minutes."

"Thank you." Her father responded, squeezing her mother's shoulder. He turned back to Jemma and pressed a kiss to her forehead, quickly followed by her mum.

Goodnights and I love yous were exchanged before Jemma was left to her own thoughts for a moment, the only sound being the steady beeping of the monitors. It was there that the tears made themselves known yet again. God, she never remembered a time in her life where she'd cried as much as she had in the month. She once again found Steve handing her a tissue. She would've been embarrassed if she hadn't noticed his red-rimmed eyes as well. She took the proffered tablet after she wiped her eyes. "Thank you."

"He hasn't done much of anything since the Soldier was triggered." Steve ran a hand through his mussed blonde hair. "Won't eat or drink anything. Won't sleep unless they knock him out and even that doesn't last long. They also had to sedate him to remove the bullets…He's like a statue."

"How long since the trigger?"

"You've been out for four days." Steve let out a tired sigh. "Natasha says he's been conditioned to go long periods of time without water, food, or sleep…in case of capture or torture." His voice cracked on the last word. "With his enhancements…she says we have about a week until the dehydration does him in."

"Can't we just shut the Soldier off? I'm fine now." As she said that, she started coughing. Her right side dully throbbed where they had taken out the chest tube. _Damn it…_

"You just woke up hours ago. You're in no condition to see him."

"He needs to know I'm alright. It's my fault he's like this!" Her voice rose and she didn't care in the slightest that she was yelling at Captain America.

"Bucky made his choice Jemma."

She was shaking her head. "He told me the Soldier wanted me out of his way and I didn't listen. He knew what they were going to activate the Soldier…I should've run…"

"The Soldier wasn't as in control as you think Jemma."

"He shot me, Steve. James wouldn't shoot me."

"If the Soldier wanted you dead, you would be dead." Steve sat down in the chair. "Buck was a hell of a marksman when he was with the Commandoes. The Winter Soldier even better. While Bucky may hesitate, the Soldier would go for a kill shot without hesitation." He pointed to her bandaged wrapped chest. "The Soldier wouldn't have gone for your heart, he would've gone for the head."

"What are you saying? That James was still in there?"

"What I'm saying is that he gave you a chance to walk away from it."

Jemma looked down at the tablet, watching with a heavy heart as the Winter Soldier stood in the center if the cell unmoving. "Even now he protects me...condemning himself in the end."

"And he calls _me_ the punk." Steve shook his head, taking the tablet from her. "Get some rest Jemma. I'll stay here okay?"

Jemma tried to respond, but she felt a sudden bought of drowsiness. Steve must have pressed the button on the morphine pump when he first sat down, his clear blue gaze slightly guilty as she tried to say something. The pain was quickly fading into warmth before Jemma finally slipped into sleep.


	20. Sleep

_Jemma walked down the empty hallway, clutching the IV stand. The floor was cold underneath her bare feet as she passed empty room after empty room. "Hello? Is anyone there?"_

 _"Why hello my dear."_

 _The IV stand was the only thing keeping her upright. "Volkov?"_

 _His throat looked like the last time she'd seen it, torn out and bloody. "Oh, my dear Doctor Jemma. You are the only one left." His voice was rough and stuttering as he tried to speak with his voice box completely gone. He waved his hand in the direction she had just come. "See for yourself."_

 _Turning around, she slowly turned to make her way down the hallway. The first door on her left wasn't a door anymore, but a tank of water. It was murky, but once the person within came into focus she screamed. It was Fitz, his body slowly sinking to the bottom as he drew his last breath. She beat his fists against the glass, tears blurring her vision as the tank slowly disappeared into the wall, taking Fitz with it. She lashed out at the hand that landed on her shoulder, but Volkov only took a small step back._

 _"Come on my dear there's more to see."_

 _She suddenly found herself on her feet again and walking toward a dimly lit room. A familiar hyperbaric chamber and a dark-haired man came into the focus the same time Skye walked into the room. Jemma found a scream caught in her throat as a shot rang out, crimson spreading across Skye's floral blouse. It was like slow motion as she pressed a hand to her stomach, staring at the man who had shot her. Jemma knew who the man was as he pressed the barrel point blank into Skye's stomach and shooting her again before gently laid her on the ground. Ian Quinn's twisted grin met hers as the scene faded into the wall yet again._

 _She found herself pulled to her feet again, and saw her remaining teammates kneeling on the ground, their heads down with their wrists bound together. Behind them stood the Winter Soldier, metal hand holding a Glock. Ice blue eyes met hers._

 _"Soldier. Kill them all."_

"Jemma…"

 _She watched through teary eyes as five gunshots sounded followed by the sound of bodies. She was forced to her knees by Volkov, his cracking voice sounding from behind her._

"Jemma…"

 _"Kill her."_

"Jemma wake up…"

She sat up with a scream and lashed out at the person who had a hand on her shoulder, the single gunshot still echoing in her head. It took her a moment to realize she was back in the hospital room and that the person whose hand was on her shoulder was Steve Rogers, who was now currently sporting three healing scratches across his cheek. "Oh, God…I'm so…"

"It's okay. If it helps…I uh…broke my bed."

It took a moment to realize he was talking about nightmares. Of course, he would have nightmares. Steve Rogers served in the bloodiest war in history and forced a plane into the Arctic where he drowned and was frozen, only to wake up in a new time where everyone he knew was gone. Then he found out that his friend he thought was dead was actually brainwashed and tortured by the very organization that he died to rid the world of…who then tried to kill him. She couldn't even imagine what he saw at night…

"I can imagine."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

She looked up and met his gaze, the scratches from seconds earlier already gone. She blinked, flashes of her friends dying one by one, of James pulling the trigger. She couldn't stop the words as they tumbled out. "Volkov….he showed me Fitz drowning, Skye getting shot and he…ordered _him_ to kill the rest before killing me…"

Steve didn't need to know who the 'him' was, just ran a hand through his hair. He nodded, his eyes misting over for a moment. "We'll get him back Jemma. You know that…"

"I know that, but…" Jemma chewed her lip for a moment. "I tampered with the machine they used to…" She trailed off when his jaw clenched. "Volkov found out and had those he suspected lined up…he ordered James to kill one of us every minute until someone spoke up…"

He shook his head but noticed her use of his first name. "You said James…?"

"Two people were killed and it wasn't the Soldier who shot them." She let that sink in. "He couldn't disobey them…they would punish him. It was my fault that he was forced to…" Her voice broke as tears ran down her cheeks. "It's my fault…he killed them because I got caught."

Steve shook his head, wrapping a large arm around her and gently gathering her to his warm chest. He held her while she sobbed, murmuring what were supposed to be soothing words while rubbing smooth circles on her back.

She couldn't help but remember what it felt like to be held by James, to have his arms wrapped around her. To be surrounded by his familiar scent of metal and leather. To have her head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat… She was vaguely aware of someone entering the room, only to be gently shooed away by Steve. He held her until the crying subsided and when he pulled back, she saw the tears in his eyes as well.

He gave her a watery smile. "In the end…everything will be okay. Alright?"

She nodded and took the tissue that seemed to appear out of nowhere. She wiped her eyes. "Who was that that came in?"

"Doctor Hartman. She said she'll be back in a few minutes."

Again Jemma nodded. "How's James doing?"

His expression turned grim almost immediately. "Not good. Still won't eat or drink. Tried to attack Natasha when she went to check on him. Shorted out his arm and suffered some electrical burns when he tried to punch his way out." His voice cracked. "I was going to see him, but she said it would be even worse if he saw me."

Doctor Hartman walked in just then and smiled at the Captain. "How are you feeling Jemma?"

"Now that you asked, my chest does feel pretty tight." She almost laughed at Steve's horrified expression.

"That's completely normal Captain. It's just the pain medication wearing off." Doctor Hartman leaned over and pressed a few buttons on the medicine pump. "The tightness should go away soon. Did you sleep well?"

"I've had worse."

Steve scoffed a smile back on his face.

Dr. Hartman raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. "Your parents should be up in few minutes. Can they come right in?"

Jemma looked over at Steve, who nodded, and then back to the doctor. "Yeah, they can."


	21. On Watch

May watched Rogers' expression as Simmons talked to her parents, blue eyes staring at nothing. She knew this whole thing was slowly wearing down the soldier's resolve. There was no outward sign of exhaustion, but she could it. It was all in the eyes…

"We shoulda told her everything about Bucky." He sighed, watching a rare genuine smile bloom across Simmons' face, one of the first since she'd been back. "She deserves to know."

"Telling her that the Soldier tried to cross himself off won't make her feel any better. She feels horrible enough about the whole thing as it is, you know that."

"Not telling her will only make it worse when she finds out later." He gripped the windowsill tight enough for the wood to groan. "She's tougher than you think."

Phil saw the anger and sadness in his expression. "What did she tell you?"

They all looked up when she laughed at something her father said. May smiled at the carefree sound and saw the smile on the Captain's face and Phil's shoulders loosen. The fact that she was alive and smiling and laughing after the hell HYDRA put her though gave them hope. They needed a little hope right now.

"Captain Rogers!" Skye was running down the hall, eyes wide.

He was at attention immediately. "What is it Agent Skye?"

"It's Barnes. He wants to talk to you."

"He broke the conditioning?" Steve was slacked jaw before breaking in a dead-on sprint that had people running for cover.

"How long?" Phil asked after Rogers rounded the corner. "Until he reverts back into the Soldier?"

"Romanov said she didn't know, but that Barnes thought it was the 1940's and that he wouldn't talk to anyone but Captain Rogers, thinks he's back in the HYDRA prisoner camp and won't trust anyone. She's giving him an hour top. She also said that she's never seen someone break from conditioning for this long." She looked to see Jemma with her parents. "Should we tell her?"

The Captain's words rang in May's head and she let out a breath. "She deserves to know. About everything."

Skye nodded. "I'll tell her."

Skye waited until Jemma's parents had left to talk to the doctor before slipping into the room. May watched through the glass as Skye sat down where Jemma's mother had previously been in a chair on the scientist's left side. The conversation seemed to start out innocent enough, but that changed when Jemma's relaxed demeanor evaporated. May could see the struggle in Jemma as she shoved down her anger and blinked away the tears. The smile she sent Skye before she left the room never reached her hard hazel eyes. Those eyes had been so open and communicative when they first met and now it was like looking in a mirror, those eyes now full of emotional anger and pain…

Skye seemed to realize this as well when she came to stand by May's side. Her dark eyes were troubled as she looked at her friend. "She's changed."

"The things they made her do would change anyone." She brushed off the younger agent's questioning look, instead watching Jemma as she fiddled with the sheet. "What did she say?"

"She wasn't as surprised as I thought she would be."

Both women felt the super soldier's presence before they saw him. May could see the weariness in the Captain's eyes when he came to stand beside her. She smiled though when she caught Skye's starstruck expression. "How's Sergeant Barnes?"

He sighed. "Was fine until he tried to kill me...again."

Now that she looked closer, May could see the nearly faded bruises around his neck. May didn't have the heart to tell him of the identical bruising around Jemma's throat as well as the broken wrist. She knew of the Captain's unflinching loyalty to his childhood friend and brother-in-arms and knew he would lash out at anyone who said anything bad about him.

"How's she doin'?"

"She's doing well. She should be transferred back to the base within the next forty-eight hours. Doctor Hartman says she needs to do a few more tests before she can leave." "You want me to watch her tonight?"

"You've been awake for three days straight Cap...even super soldiers such as yourself needs some beauty sleep."

Rogers rolled his eyes, turning to face the archer. "Are you offering Barton?"

"Of course. Tasha said she'll watch Barnes tonight." He met the Captain's eyes. "Come on Cap. She'll relieve me at 0500."

Rogers nodded, clapping the man on his shoulder. "Thank you, Barton."

"Least I can do." He waited until Rogers' enhanced hearing was out of range. "Haven't seen him this tightly coiled since he found his find out Barnes was alive. This is Agent Simmons I presume."

"You're correct Barton," May said with an unenthusiastic tone.

"Aww, Melinda…" He slung an arm over her shoulders, "I thought we were on a first name basis."

"Okay...then you're correct Clinton."

Skye snorted, a hand quickly coming up to cover her mouth to stifle her laughter as the archer was shocked for a moment before muttering what sounded like a Russian curse. "You guys are mean." He dropped his arm, a pout forming on his lips. "Simmons will be nice to me. British people are always nice."

Skye turned to May, waiting until Barton walked into Jemma's room to speak. "Did he really just say that?"

"Yeah,…he did." May sighed. "But he'll keep the mood light…God knows we need it."

"I'm guessing there'll be an around the clock on her until she's moved?" Skye folded her arms across her chest.

"She'll have the best guards, plus they all seem to like her."

"And if HYDRA plans to make a move, they'll do it now while she's out in the open."

"I hope these forty-eight hours go by fast." Skye sighed. "I just want this to be over."

Both woman watched Barton prop his feet on the end of the end of the bed, talking adamantly with his hands and bringing a small smile to Jemma's face. May shifted her weight. "You're not the only one."


	22. Bargaining Chip

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I won't tell you whose POV it is, but it shouldn't be too tough to figure out.**

* * *

A man leaned down to get a drink from the fountain, watching the two dark haired women converse in front of the glass. They were right to be worried…it wouldn't be safe to have her out in such an exposed environment. He scowled as the women made their way into the waiting room and watched the archer throw back his head in laughter.

That man had been a pain in HYDRA's side when he had turned the tables and sided with Captain Rogers. He and that Russian bitch had been destroying every base they could find, severely dwindling his available resources and manpower. No matter, he thought with a smirk, he would be the first to go…

Making his way back to the waiting room, he sat down and watched for any doctors that fit his relative stature. It didn't take long for one to catch his eye. With practiced ease, he followed the doctor and waited until the doctor went into the supply closet before he pulled him into a headlock that rendered him unconscious. He lay the man on the ground and stripped out of his civilian clothes before pulling on the scrubs and white coat. As he secured the name tag, he crouched down and press a finger to his temple, allowing the Nano Mask to replicate the man's features. Pulling out an ICER, he shot the man twice for good measure before shutting the door.

He smiled at any person who walked by. It was too easy to flirt with the receptionist to allow him a few minutes with the hospital records. He pulled up Jemma Simmons' patient file, quickly noting the injuries before finding the information on her attending physician.

Her name was Doctor Julianna Hartman. She was a single mother, never married, and had a sixteen-year-old daughter attending the public high school. Her name was Rebecca…That would be his bargaining chip…He quickly printed out the medical file and personal information before returning to the menu screen and leaving the desk.

Walking back to the closet, he changed clothes once again and returned the Nano Mask to its former identity of a man with fairly common features before leaving the hospital and headed in the direction of the parking lot. Checking his watch, he had three hours to put his plan into motion before Romanov started her watch. She would be harder to fool than Barton. He would have to act quick…

The drive to the Hartman residence was short and the girl had made it easier by leaving the garage door open long enough for him to slip in unnoticed. He gave her about a minute before quietly making his way into the kitchen and following her silently upstairs. He peeled the Nano mask off with one hand and pressed the barrel of the gun to the base of her skull with the other.

She froze, everything in her hands falling to the floor as she raised them to her head. "What do you want?"

"From you?" He lowered the gun. "I want you to call your mother."

Her entire body was shaking as she turned to face him and tears were streaming down her face. She seemed to ignore the fact that the gun was now pointed at her chest. "Why?"

"If you're not going to call her…" He clicked off the safety, pressing the barrel to her chest.

Blue eyes narrowed as she backed up to reach into her bag and pulled out her cell phone.

He admired the girl's guts when she unlocked the phone and handed it to him, already blocking the strike she aimed at his head. He shoved the girl back, the back of his hand connecting with her cheek. The gun was once again aimed at her head as she hit the ground. "I don't like killing girls so I wouldn't try that again."

She pulled herself from the floor, blood running from her split lip. "I'm not afraid of you."

 _"I'm not afraid you Ward." She took a step closer to him, her dark eyes defiant as she ignored the gun being aimed at her chest. The detonator held loosely in her left hand, leaving her right hand free to draw the weapon that was at the small of her back._

 _"You're not gonna kill us with the bomb. You'd go too."_

 _"No, I have a weapon much better than a bomb that will absolutely destroy you." She allowed a smug smile to curl her lips._

 _"And why's that?"_

 _"Because you slept with her…" She was amused now. "And she's really pissed off."_

Grant pulled himself from the memory before he was sideswiped by the fucking Cavalry. That was a particular instance he would rather not relive. This girl reminded him so much of Skye though… They both have that innate ability to fight back, he admired that. Maybe he wouldn't harm her…much. "I believe that Rebecca…" He pressed the call button. "But does your mother?"

"Hey sweetheart, how was school?"

"How is the shift treatin' you, Doctor Hartman?"

"Who is this? Where is my daughter?"

He ignored the questioning. "Do you have a patient by the name of Jemma Simmons?"

"Can I talk to my daughter?"

"After you tell me what you know…and trust me, I can tell when you're lying." The line was silent, save for some shuffling and a door shutting. He looked over at Rebecca, the girl glaring daggers at him. "You still there Doctor Hartman?"

"I have a patient by that name. She was in a medically induced coma after being shot in the chest by an unidentified shooter. She woke up yesterday and is being transferred to a secure facility in less than forty-eight hours."

He nearly laughed at the 'unidentified shooter' nonsense. Having three Avengers guarding Simmons should've given her a better understanding of what was going on. "During your next check-in, you will drug both the archer and Simmons without alerting the others."

"I don't know if I-"

"I don't want to shoot your daughter, but I will if you don't do what I say." He made sure she could hear the sound of the girl whimpering as he dug the barrel deeper into her skin.

"Okay okay…just give me time." Her breathing was ragged. "He'll suspect something…I know he will. I can put ketamine or pentobarbital in his drink, but that will take some time…"

"How long?"

"An hour or so…he would notice something was up before he'd be unconscious."

He sighed. "I'll handle him, just take care of Jemma."

"My next check-in is in an hour." She said. "I'll up her pain medication dosage, it shouldn't take more than a few minutes and she'll be out for at least an hour…How will I know it's you?"

"I'll have your beautiful daughter with me. See you in an hour." He ended the call, shattering the phone beneath his boot as he grabbed the girl by the arm and hauled her back into the garage. Securing her wrists with handcuffs and ankles with rope, he buckled her into the passenger seat and enabled the child lock on her door so she wouldn't get the bright idea to jump out of a moving vehicle.

"Why are you doing this?"

Grant backed the car out of the driveway. "I'm looking for someone."

"Is this Jemma Simmons the person you're looking for?"

"No."

"Then who is?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he reached behind him and drew the ICER on her before she could even utter another word. The effects of the dendrotoxin were quick as she slumped against the door. He didn't want to hear her nagging questions for the next forty-five minutes.

"Why are you doing this?"

Grant backed the car out of the driveway. "I'm looking for someone."

"No."

"Then who is?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he reached behind him and drew the ICER on her before she could even utter another word. The effects of the dendrotoxin were quick as she slumped against the door. He didn't want to hear her nagging questions for the next forty-five minutes.

With five minutes until the check-in, he pulled on scrubs and a lab coat, the Nano Mask showing the identity of the doctor that was still unconscious in the closet. He walked into the back entrance with no difficulty and took the stairwell to the second floor, where he saw Doctor Hartman. Her expression was confused for a moment but fell when he sent her a crooked smile.

"Where is she?"

"Relax…she's fine. When I get these two, you'll get your daughter."

She nodded to herself, bringing a surprisingly realistic smile to her face before entering the room. She made small talk with Barton and walked over to the machinery where she looked to be checking over everything, but was really making minute adjustments to the morphine pump. While waiting for Simmons to fall asleep, she turned to Barton.

The archer suspected nothing as the doctor opened the door to leave and Grant fired the ICER three times before he could react. Barton collapsed back into the chair. Like he'd planned, the hallway was empty as he slung the man over his shoulders and laid him in a nearby gurney where he then zipped up the body bag he had placed on top. He turned to face the doctor, "Meet me at the back entrance."

She opened her mouth to say something, but thought better and went back into the room.

He didn't have to wait long because by the time Hartman had rolled out Jemma, Rebecca was finally starting to come to. He pulled her out of the car and left before he could see the weepy reunion. He looked back at the body bag and smiled. He had implanted tracers to destroy…


	23. Captured

Jemma didn't think much of it when Doctor Hartman came in to check her monitors and hand Clint a coffee after his night watch. She asked all the normal questions and wished them a good morning before leaving. That is until a wave of drowsiness came over her the same time Clint slumped over in the chair, the coffee spilling onto the floor. Before she could call for help, the drug quickly pulled her into unconsciousness as well.

When she awoke, Jemma immediately took in her surroundings. She was lying in a Queen sized bed, the sheets pulled up under her arms. The room was fairly large, with a dresser and closet taking up one wall. The second thing she realized was that there were no IVs attached to her arm, and the full body pain came seconds after that realization. She bit her lip and pushed herself up using her bandaged hand, which pulled at the stitches. The next thing she realized was that Clint was nowhere to be seen. _Where was he? Who had taken them? Was Dr. Hartman HYDRA?_

She fell back on the bed as the door unlocked and swung open, the action sending pain everywhere. Her entire body froze as she caught a familiar pair of dark eyes staring down at her. Grant Ward.

"It's nice to see a familiar face, isn't it Jemma?"

"Where's Clint?" She spat, ignoring the condescending smile he was giving her. "What did you do to him?"

Shutting the door behind him, the grin never faltered. "Doctor Hartman was easy to control…would do anything to protect her daughter. Had her drug you and Barton." He let out a small humorless laugh. "Little known fact about Clint Barton: a childhood trauma left him with 80% hearing loss. When he joined S.H.I.E.L.D., they gave him top of the line implants. Turns out those implants can be destroyed with a few well-placed shocks."

"Why are you doing this?" The tears in her eyes weren't just from the pain. "What are you trying to gain?"

"I thought you were smart Jemma." He leaned down until their faces were inches apart. "I want what I've always wanted. I want Skye."

"If you think doing this will make her care than you're in worse shape than I thought." She smiled through the pain.

"I would behave if I were you." The sound of a pained cry could be heard through the wall next door and it was like she was back at HYDRA. At her wide-eyed expression, he smiled. "You seem to have a soft spot for tortured men and you wouldn't want Barton being punished for _your_ disobedience now would we?"

Jemma reluctantly clamped her mouth shut. Ward would be harder to fool than Volkov was. He knew her…and James wasn't here. He was trapped in the Soldier. Barton was most likely tied up and she was in too much pain to move at the moment. Natasha and Steve would come, no doubt. She would just have to behave long enough.

.….….

May stood off to the side, watching as Steve had an arm wrapped around a furious Natasha, keeping her from slamming the Doctor against the wall and answering her questions. To be completely honest, she was thinking the same thing. Phil seemed to be the only rational person at the moment.

He was talking to the trembling woman in hushed tones, an arm wrapped around her shoulders. When Phil's face tightened in anger, he sat her down and turned to May. "It was Ward."

Natasha had stilled, brushing off Steve's arm. "Grant Ward?"

At Steve slightly confused expression, Phil explained. "Grant Ward is a Specialist. He used to be a member of this team before he turned out to be HYDRA. He has an obsession with one of our agents, Skye. He used to be her SO. He threatened Hartman's daughter if she didn't drug Jemma and Barton." Phil ran a hand down his face. "This has to be about Skye."

"Clint has a tracker. I could trace his current position." Natasha spoke, pulling out a newly acquired Stark phone. She tapped the screen a few times before letting out a growled Russian curse. "The tracker was destroyed, but here is their last known position." She handed the phone to Phil before walking off.

May raised an eyebrow.

"When he was young, Barton suffered 80% hearing loss. When he first came to S.H.I.E.L.D., he was given implants that were embedded with trackers. If those trackers are destroyed then that means that Ward knows. Barton's impairment was on a need to know basis. If he knows this, there's no telling what else he has up his sleeve." He looked down at the phone as a message came through. "Natasha's waking up Bucky."

Steve ran a hand through his hair. "Hope you don't want him alive. Bucky'll tear him apart for touchin' his girl."

"Not if Natasha gets to him first." Phil gives a small smile. "Hill said he called her eye candy."

Steve actually laughed. "Well then…this should be interesting."

…

The first thing James did upon hearing the news was lunge for Natalia, his metal hand around her neck. "You were supposed to be watching her!"

Her green eyes were as cold as he remembered. "Barton was watching her James." Her eyes showed a flicker of sadness. "They took him too. You aren't the only one who's upset about this."

"I'm not upset…I'm fucking pissed." He growled, finally dropping his hand. "How long?"

"Three hours."

"Why not sooner?"

"Barton's watch ended three hours ago." She ran a hand through her hair. "I was supposed to relieve him…this is my fault. I should've checked on them sooner. It's not like Barton to be silent that long."

"Who subdued them? Barton is not an easy target."

"Agent Grant Ward threatened Doctor Hartman's daughter, said if she didn't drug them that he would kill her while she watched. Barton's hearing implants were destroyed and their last known coordinates were bogus. The only way his implants can be destroyed is high electrical currents…"

"Why?" He remembered vaguely a moment where the Soldier had felt something off about the man. He could identify that something bordering on psychopathic. "There has to be a reason."

"He has an obsession with Agent Skye…believes that she is his possession." There was no missing the venom in her voice as they both changed into their tactical gear.

James caught sight of both of the scars he left on her as she zipped up her suit. He received a raised eyebrow in response to his guilty expression. He laced up his boots and slid knives into each one before running quick diagnostics on his arm. He frowned at the appearance of scorch marks up to his elbow.

"Tried to reach through the cell wall, short-circuited the arm for a short time, but everything should be in working order right?"

"Everything works."

She tested her Widow Bites with a predatory grin. "Let's get 'em back."

James was on autopilot as he followed her to the SUV and put on the jacket when they entered the hospital. Seeing them in their tactical gear would be frightening enough without the metal arm on display for everyone to see.

He was met with almost a dozen pairs of eyes when he walked into the waiting room. He met Steve's gaze first, giving him a reassuring nod. Seeing Steve and Natalia relaxed must've calmed the others because the tension seemed to leave them slightly as he shut the door behind him. It was then that he saw Doctor Hartman.

He forced his misplaced anger down as he made his way to her. A large hand wrapped around his metal bicep and he met his friend's blue eyes. "Relax Steve, I'm not gonna kill her."

"I saw what you did to those soldiers."

"They deserved it." He replied. "I don't blame her. She wasn't trained to handle these situations, Steve. I can't blame her for protecting her family."

Steve nodded, letting go of his arm.

He crouched down in front of the woman, who nearly jumped out of her skin when he said her name. Bloodshot blue-green eyes met his and for a moment they reminded him of Jemma... He held his hands up. "Relax Doctor Hartman. I just wanna ask ya a few questions al'right?" Allowing the accent to come through his voice had the desired effect as she seemed to relax slightly, but then she saw the guns holstered to his thighs and her eyes widened once more.

"Who are you?"

"I'm a friend of Cap." He motioned to his friend, knowing that that fact alone would relieve her. Captain America did have that effect on people. "I just need to ask ya some questions."

She cleared her throat and replied in a cracked voice. "O-okay."

"When were you contacted?"

"I was uh...I was contacted about three and a half hours ago. A call came through my phone and when I saw my daughter's name on caller ID I picked it up..." She fiddled with the gold chain around her neck, the locket catching his eye for a moment. "There was a man...he asked if I had a patient by the name of Jemma Simmons. I wasn't going to tell him, but I heard Becca…she was crying."

 _"Jamie! You're back!"_

 _Before he could even react, a pair of arms had secured themselves around his knees and looked down to meet eyes identical to his own. He chuckled when she caught scent of his work clothes, her nose crinkling. "What's wrong sis?"_

 _"You smell really bad…Ma won't let you in the house if you smell bad."_

 _He smiled. "Is that so?"_

 _She returned the dimpled smile with a flash of white teeth as she nodded. She squealed with laughter when he picked her up and spun her around. "Jamie! Put me down!"_

 _James was reminded of why he worked so many long shifts as any weariness he had faded away as she continued to laugh. He wished she could stay like this, innocent and oblivious of the hard times around them. Setting her on his hip, he kissed her forehead. "Love ya Becca."_

 _She gave him a peck on the cheek. "Love ya too Jamie."_

James stiffened as the memory hit him like a tidal wave, the image of the little dark-haired girl with blue eyes at the forefront of his mind. Rebecca…his little sister's name was Rebecca. Her laughter was still echoing in his head as he forced himself back into the present. The doctor was watching him with a peculiar expression on her face, eyes still watery with tears.

"Where did you go just now?" This was Steve, warm hand on his flesh shoulder.

"I remember Rebecca." Love ya too Jamie… "She's my sister."

"Yeah,…she had you wrapped around her finger." His smile was wistful for a moment but vanished when a teenage girl came and sat down next to the doctor.

James knew right away that this was Rebecca Hartman when the girl threw her arms around her mother. He caught sight of the bruising to her face, around her wrists, and between her collarbones and both looked up at him when his metal hand clenched into a fist, making whirling and humming noises for all to hear. He felt Steve squeeze his shoulder hard enough to pull him from his sudden change in mood. Meeting the fearful eyes of the two women sitting in front of him, he stood up and walked out the front door and to the back of the hospital so no one could see the devastation as he swung his metal fist into brick, pieces of the wall crumbling at his feet as he crouched and put his head between his knees, fingers pulling at his short hair.

 _"Soldier…hit Doctor Simmons. We must send SHIELD a message…"_

 _"Do it then… It's okay James."_

 _"This particular S.H.I.E.L.D. team has been a thorn in my side… Your mission: Bring in Coulson and Skye…kill the rest."_

 _"No! No please! I'll do whatever you want… Let me talk to them please!"_

 _"Mission accepted."_

The crunch of gravel beneath boots alerted him to a presence and without thinking, he spun around. His metal hand met flesh before he pulled himself from his torrent of thoughts, finding Steve sprawled a few feet away from him. "What the fuck Stevie? I could've killed you!"

The blonde rubbed at the bruise forming along his jaw as he got to his feet. "You know it takes more than a punch to take me out, Buck…" He sighed then, running a hand through his hair. "What happened back there?"

"He hit her Steve…pressed the barrel into her skin hard enough to bruise… just brought back some unpleasant memories. Probably best I came out here before I scared that poor girl anymore…"

"Natasha said she has a plan to get them back…wanted to wait until you were there to explain it."

"Let's go then."


	24. Torture

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter is in Clint's POV. I'm going to apologize ahead of time in case there is anything wrong with the way I wrote Clint's deafness. I myself am not deaf, but I hope I did it justice.**

 **WARNING: Torture occurs in this chapter.**

* * *

Waking up bound and covered in bruises was nothing new to Clint, but the fact that he could hear absolutely nothing was something he hadn't experienced in years and it set him on edge that someone had figured this past trauma out. He tested the shackles holding his arms above his head, already knowing he wouldn't be able to break out of these. His eyes settled on the pile of his tactical gear and weaponry in the far corner of the room, relieved to find he hadn't been stripped completely naked. Now there was something he never wanted to experience again…

He could feel the slight vibrations against the wall as the door opened and met the dark eyes of Grant Ward. Clint remembered seeing him on a few occasions at the Triskelion, always observing others. He knew from Ward's personal file that their childhoods were somewhat similar, but rid himself of sympathy because of the events leading up to this.

 _Hello, Agent Barton._

Clint didn't need to hear him to know that that was said in that condescending tone. He smiled as he replied in a tone he knew was a tad too soft. "Hail HYDRA."

Ward didn't react outwardly, but Clint had spent enough years reading Natasha's minute emotional cues to know that he'd hit some kind of nerve. Which was why he wasn't surprised by the punch that slammed his head back into the wall hard enough to dent the drywall. He spit out the blood and smiled, "Come on…Natasha can hit harder than that." Another hit, this time to his ribcage. It took him a moment to pull in a breath and he could only read the last words of what the man was saying _(Where? What?)- is she?_

"Who we talking about?"

 _Where is Skye?_

"Probably back at base with our two resident Russian assassins who want you torn to pieces." He smiled at the man's widened eyes. "The Winter Soldier will probably manage just fine on his own."

 _He can't be alive!_

"He's a very stubborn bastard I'll give him that." His comment had a knife pressed underneath his jaw. His pulse remained steady as his smile widened. "You won't kill me. I'm as much a bargaining chip as Jemma is."

He narrowed his eyes, and instead drew the tip of the blade across his chest.

Clint felt the sting but didn't show a single response. It would take a lot more than that if Ward wanted to get any response from him. He could see the man's lips moving but didn't bother reading them. Sometimes he didn't mind to play the deaf guy to irritate people a little bit. Of course, this tactic only pissed off his captors more and it wasn't something he used often because it was a disadvantage in the field. That…and well, it fucking sucked. He noticed a slight tick in the man's jaw.

The knife now embedded into his shoulder was expected and he only ground his teeth at the pain. He knew nothing vital was hit but that it would take a couple weeks of physical therapy and just as long at the firing range to adjust to it…damnit. The knife was pulled out slowly, the serrated edge doing even more damage. Clint finally obliged Ward and looked up in time to catch the last part of his sentence.

 _-find me._

"What?"

 _I said, "That they won't be able to find me" or at least not yet._

Clint rolled his eyes as Ward purposefully emphasized each word carefully, as if Clint hadn't been deaf for years or that he wasn't one of the best lip-readers SHIELD had before it fell. "You know…Skye was right about you. You really are deranged."

His comment had the desired effect as Ward hit him in the newly acquired stab wound, sending white pain flaring through his chest. He only clenched his jaw as he was struck again and again. He knew mentioning Skye would hit a nerve. The young woman had told him herself of the things that Ward did. He bonded with her as she shared her time with a particularly 'rough' foster home and in return, he found himself telling about his childhood. She reminded Clint a little bit of himself sometimes and that was why he was pushing Ward. The man was stupid enough to believe that he would only be found if he wanted to. Clint knew many people who could disappear off the grid completely, himself included, but he'd gotten sloppy by taking them as bargaining chips. He had left a trail right to his front door and it would only take a short time for the Black Widow and Winter Soldier to find him.

Clint sighed inwardly in relief as the hits finally stopped and he took a moment to take stoke of the damage: broken nose, busted lip, probable concussion, a couple of cracked ribs and a cut above his left eye. The last one was becoming a problem because the blood was slowly obscuring his much-needed vision. He took a shuddering breath and finally looked up at Ward.

Ward was facing away from him, his shoulders rising and falling in exertion. It seemed his anger would be his downfall...

Clint knew he had to keep that impulsive anger away from Simmons. Her hate for Ward was personal, given that the man had sent her and her partner Fitz to the bottom of the ocean. Clint had only known Fitz through some of the gadgets he used but now that he'd met him, he could see the genius trapped behind the tangled tongue. She and Fitz were like him and Tasha. Clint couldn't imagine what he would do to someone if they'd hurt Natasha that badly… "Did I touch a nerve? Skye said that would happen if I mentioned her…"

The fist that struck him unconscious was answer enough.

…

He awoke to the faint vibrations of the door opening. Clint knew immediately who the visitor was as soon as the dim light from the hallway cast a silhouette of a slender form. How the hell Jemma had managed to sneak into this room was as surprising as she stepped into the light and began signing to him. It took him a moment to read.

 _Are you alright?_

Clint nodded and managed a short response. _You?_

 _Fine._ She smiled and he didn't miss the shakiness in her hands that Clint knew hinted at the immense pain she was in. She made her way to him, cool hands expertly examining the stab wound. She too seemed to determine that there was no immediate danger, but her brows furrowed at the blood sluggishly running down his chest.

He read her concern. "I'm not even woozy in the slightest Jemma." He whispered, sending her a crooked smile. "I'll be okay for another day."

Her skeptical look transformed into one of fear.

Grant Ward stood in the doorway, jaw clenched in anger.

Clint could only watch as he forced Jemma to her feet, her right hand tight in his grip. He could see the blood drain from her face as fresh pain washed over her and she struggled to regain her balance. Clint pulled on his restraints, ignoring the fresh blood running down his chest Ward screamed something at her, the words unreadable in profile. Jemma didn't react to whatever he said, but she only smiled before replying.

Clint had spent enough time lip reading with Natasha to know that what had been said wasn't in English, but it had definitely pissed Ward off enough to backhand the woman onto the ground. Clint bit back the list of words he could use to describe the man. Sad to say, but both were at this psychopath's mercy and he didn't want Jemma because of his hot head.

She wiped the back of her bandaged left hand over her busted lip and was slow as she used the wall to climb back to her feet. She looked back at him, blue-green eyes shining with unshed tears as she mouthed an unmistakable _I'm sorry_ before two armored guards pulled her out of the room.

 _I told her you would be punished for her disobedience._

"Go ahead then…punish away."

 _I watched you two talk when she was in the hospital._

"So?" While he didn't show it, the change in conversation was a little odd.

 _You two seemed pretty close for people who hardly know each other._

Clint sighed. "Your point?"

 _I just thought you were still fucking that Russian whore._

Clint took a deep breath, drawing on his sniper's mindset to keep a cool head as nothing but a crooked smile came to his lips. "She say no to you?"

The narrowed eyes were answer enough.

Clint couldn't help but laugh. Natasha could spot an arrogant man like Ward a mile away and she delighted in saying no to the ones who hadn't heard it enough, the ones who thought they were the center of the universe…who thought that every woman wanted them and bruise their ego. Leave it to Ward to take it so personally. "I can't believe you thought she would actually say yes to you."

The man's temper broke free with a rib-cracking punch followed by another and another as Ward released his pent-up frustration out on Clint. Two cracked ribs, a swollen shut eye, and a few deep lacerations later, the man suddenly froze. Clint felt the shaking of the explosion against the wall and he watched Ward pace the length of the room. He stopped for a moment and seemed to be weighing his options. The bloody knife was in his hands once again and with a small smile, sank it hilt deep into Clint's stomach. He leaned in close and made sure his words could be read. _Even the greatest weapon has an off switch..._ Without another word, he yanked the knife out and threw it into the far corner of the room. Before drawing a gun and walking out into the hallway.

Clint let his head fall as he watching the blood pour from his body into a pool on the floor, processing the message. Natasha had once told him that all operatives from the Red Room were implanted with trigger phrase or words that could shut them down if they thought of going rogue or disobeying orders from their handlers. HYDRA would be stupid not to do the same for their Asset… Well fuck…

Through the black dots in his vision, he could see a shadow in the doorway but could feel no footfall. "Tasha?"

Cool hands framed his face and he met worried green eyes. Her lips managed a small smile as she assured him she heard him. It took her mere moments to unlock the shackles and she stumbled under his weight as he leaned heavily on her shoulder.

His tongue felt like lead as he tried to speak, to warn her. "Barnes…"

She stopped walking and faced him. _What is wrong?_

"Trigger…Ward knows the words…"

Green eyes widened and he knew she uttered a Russian curse under her breath as she hurried them down the hallway. More like she dragged him down the hallway…

Clint stumbled yet again, nearly pulling the redhead down with him. "Tasha go."

 _I'm not leaving you!_

"I'm just holding you back. Trust me I'll be fine."

 _Look what happened when I left you last time…_

He stopped her. "You can help me after you tear Ward to pieces…"

She smiled at that and leaned him against a wall, quickly stripping off her tank top to give him a makeshift bandage before zipping up her combat leathers once more. _Don't bleed out on me okay?_

"I haven't yet."

 _Idiot._

"Just go Tasha."

She nodded, before making her way down the hallway.


	25. Rescue

Jemma didn't struggle as she was dragged from Barton's cell, only gasping as the rough movement pulled the staples in her chest and the stitches in her side. She tried to block out the sounds of fists hitting flesh, but it was all she could hear as she was unceremoniously shoved back into her room. It was like she never left HYDRA, but this time she and Barton were on their own, both with substantial injuries. The constant throbbing pain in her body was almost becoming bearable as she slowly made her way back onto the bed. It took a long few minutes to finally find a somewhat comfortable position, but it was short-lived as an explosion rocked the building and she found knocked to the ground. The sharp pain in her side hinted at torn stitches and the red slowly seeping through the bandages confirmed it. Jemma never even had a chance to get to her feet before Ward walked into the room and deliberately grabbed her broken right hand, the agony shooting straight to her other injuries as he pulled her up.

"You going to come with me Jemma." Cutting strips off of the sheets, he gagged her and wrestled her arms behind her back before restraining her.

Jemma's smart-ass reply was muffled by the gag as Ward led her down into the cellar without making a sound. Forcing her back to the ground, he then tied her to one of the rafters. Another stitch tore when she hit the cement.

"I have to say…" Ward crouched in front of her. "I was impressed to hear to that your little boyfriend survived the two teams I sent after you guys."

Jemma narrowed her eyes, remembering James' retelling of the events. Of how he allowed the Soldier to take control. The darkness in those bright blue eyes…That was all Ward's doing…

He took a few strands of her hair between his fingers. "You look good as a blonde." Before she could even shy away, he tangled his fingers in her hair and yanked her head up to face him. A gun was now pressed underneath her chin. "You're going to behave like a good little lab rat so I don't kill you okay?"

Jemma nodded as much as she was able, relieved when Ward released her hair. She let her head fall and concentrated on pushing through the pain. She could feel the blood running down her side and that brought to mind a similar moment as she examined Clint's wound. He had been right when he'd said nothing vital had been hit, but she knew that the most recent beating caused by the Russian "Fuck you" she'd spat in Ward's face had aggravated it. Not her smartest moment, but she knew James would be proud of her for it…

Ward was pacing the length of the room, gun held tightly in his hands.

Jemma knew what the explosion meant…help had arrived. She could hear heavy footfall upstairs, the multiple sets of tactical boots loud on the wood floor. Then the house exploded with the sound of gunfire and bodies thudding. They came before he planned, not surprising considering that the rescue party included Black Widow and Captain America. She watched Ward freeze as something came over the comms and he strode quickly out of the room.

As soon as the door shut, Jemma tested the restraints around her wrists. She winced as she put pressure on her broken wrist and sighed when she realized the restraints were expertly knotted. Even with two working hands, she didn't think she could untie them anyways. She slowly pushed herself to her feet, biting her lip as another stitch tore and blood began to flow faster. _Damn…_

She worked the gag from her mouth, pulling in as deep a breath as she could, and took a look around the dimly lit room. There were no windows or other exits besides the door. The walls were straight concrete, the floor literally dirt. The air was stale and cold and Jemma determined the room was underground given that she could currently see her breath. The hospital gown she wore offered nothing in the way of warmth or modesty and she didn't miss the groping hands of the other agents when they 'escorted' her to the restroom or when they forcibly pulled her down the hallway.

She decided to sit back down on the ground, slowly pulling her knees to her chest. Jemma began humming the same song James had on that long drive. The memory itself brought tears to her eyes, so she stopped and began mentally reciting the periodic table of elements. She had to keep her mind off the bleeding, the pain, the cold, the worry…

The gunfire above was still going strong and Jemma wondered how many men Ward had decided to recruit. The fight had been going on for almost thirty minutes now…She clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering and her body from trembling. Her vision was dimming along the edges as her blood pooled on the ground. Jemma knew that if she stayed down here for another thirty minutes, her condition would worsen greatly…

The door slammed open, revealing a ragged and bloody Ward. Pulling a knife from his boot and cutting off the restraints, he pressed a gun beneath her jaw right as James came walking in with a gun aimed to kill.

Ward pulled Jemma tight against him, the barrel burning her skin. He wrapped an arm tightly around her, deliberately putting pressure on the torn stitches. "I thought Coulson would lock you up and throw away the key."

James' blue eyes were bright with unbridled rage.

"No matter." Ward took a deep breath and spoke in an eerily calm voice. " _Sputnik._ "

Jemma watched in horror as James hit the ground with a thud, a cloud of dust surrounding his still form. Ward let her go and she could hear his chuckle as she frantically tried to wake him up. His pulse and breathing were both steady. It appeared as though he were asleep. She spun around to face the smug Ward. "What did you do to him?!"

"I thought you were smart Jemma."

"What did you do?" She knew her accent thickened as her anger rose, the years around Fitz showing in the brogue now present in her tone.

"Trigger words are funny things…can turn a ruthless assassin into the nothing more than dead weight." Ward nudged the metal arm. "Took me a while to find this particular one though. It was his original trigger word that he was implanted with back in the early sixties." He clicked off the safety, the gun aimed at James' head. "Now the Winter Soldier will be no more."

"No!" Jemma lunged for the arm holding the gun, the bullet missing his head by inches by the force she hit with. The gun came back around again, the butt striking the back of her skull with enough force to send her to the ground, her body lying next to James'. She could now add concussion to her growing list of injuries…

"You're just making this harder on yourself Jemma." Ward sighed, crouching down next to her. "Barton's already out of the way. After killing the Asset and Romanov I'll be on my way with Skye."

Jemma knew Barton wasn't dead…she knew that Steve and Natasha would never let that happen. Jemma saw with relief that James was wearing combat leathers similar to his time at the HYDRA base and she knew he was literally a walking arsenal. Most guns were out of the question given she only had one working hand. While she was ambidextrous, the combination of blood loss and the concussion would no doubt throw off her aim. She didn't want to take the shot at Ward and miss. Then it really would be over for her…

"Why do you want to kill the Avengers?"

"You're kidding right?" Ward actually smiled. "Barton and Romanov and even Barnes are assassins. Assassins only know how to take lives…not save them. They were only there so the Avengers could cooperate with S.H.I.E.L.D."

Jemma caught James' name. "You knew who The Winter Soldier was?"

"Of course…why do you think they targeted him back in 1945?"

The statement confirmed her suspicions that The Winter Soldier had been HYDRA's response to Captain America. What better choice than the Captain's right-hand man and childhood best friend? Someone he would refuse to fight...

Jemma tried to reach for the hilt of the knife in his ankle holster when Ward's tactical boot slammed into her ribcage. She screamed as the remaining stitches torn, along with about half the staples in her chest as she skidded across the ground. She could do nothing as Ward once again aimed his gun at James' head.

Through her dim vision, Jemma could see the flaming red hair and the patriotic shield gleaming in the low light as the door slammed open again. She knew the only reason Steve hadn't gone for his friend was because of the two guns now aimed at James' dark head. Blood was pouring out of her in torrents as she slowly used the wall to pull herself up, a hand pressed to her side.

Natasha's eyes flickered to her as she saw the movement but quickly returned to Ward.

"Did you find Barton Romanov? Is that his blood on your hands?"

Dead green eyes watched him, nothing passing through the woman's face. "His and about a dozen or so of your men. I could add yours if you like."

He then looked at Steve. "You know he was remembering you when Volkov found him...wandering through Brooklyn of all places?"

Steve's face took on a look that Jemma had never seen, face impassive and eyes darkening in rage. His right hand was trembling as he held himself back, his tactical mind frantically trying to come up with a plan...

It was then that Jemma noticed James' gun laying on the ground at her feet. It seems she picked it up on her tumble to the other side of the room. Sinking to the ground once again, she grasped the weapon tightly in her left hand. The safety was already off and there was a bullet in the chamber. She reluctantly used her right hand to push herself up from the dirt, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood as the pain nearly had her crying out. She raised the gun until it was level with the back of Ward's head and positioned her finger over the trigger. "Hey, Ward?"

He turned, only slightly surprised to see the gun. "You don't have it in you to kill me."

"I do…HYDRA made certain of that." Her voice was the coldest she'd ever heard it and she had the satisfaction of seeing Ward hesitate before she pulled the trigger once…twice…

 _Thud_

Jemma watched, detached, as his body slumped to the ground and blood began to pool rapidly beneath it. She dropped the gun and was surprised to find Steve already across the room, lifting her into his arms as Natasha whispered something in James' ear.

James had another gun drawn on her before he fully came back and he returned it to his thigh holster. He quickly took in the scene, eyes sad as he realized what had happened.

Jemma found herself set on her feet for only a moment before she was swept up in James' arm. She cried as she breathed in his familiar scent and soaked in his warmth, relieved to finally have him near. She was pulled away from him just enough so he could capture her mouth with his in a gentle kiss that quickly heated as he cupped her jaw in his hands.

It took too long to remember they had an audience when she finally came up for air to see a proud Natasha and a flustered Steve. She started to laugh, almost completely forgetting the injuries until the pain had her leaning heavily on James. She quickly felt herself being lifted into his arms and the four of them left the room behind them. She knew she needed to stay awake…for just a little longer, but she soon found herself falling unconscious to the sound of his steady heartbeat.


	26. Not Your Fault

May barely had time to grab a second of silence in the cockpit before the sound of an argument came through the metal door. Rogers and Barnes by the sound of it. While loud enough to hear, the language being used wasn't allowing her much in the way of content, but going off the tones alone, it was definitely something she didn't want drug into.

Romanov entered the cockpit a moment later.

May was surprised to see a weariness on the redhead's face after the unmistakable sound of metal striking metal reached them.

She sighed. "If they wanted a brawl, they could've at least waited until we landed."

The argument was still raging on. May turned to her and asked. "Language?"

"Gallic...Irish dialect." Her brow was furrowed slightly. "Not one I'm familiar with."

May nodded, remembering from somewhere that Steve Rogers' mother had been an Irish immigrant. Knowing him as a kid, Gallic was a language he'd heard often while being reprimanded. May would know, being on the end of her mother's sharp tongue when she was younger. "Probably why they're using it."

"Barnes yes…Steve is just angry."

Another clash of metal. "Any chance you could calm them down before they break something?"

"This argument was days in the making. I would only aggravate things." Romanov shrugged. "Barnes will let me know if he ever gets close to...switching."

May let the subject drop, the argument quickly became background noise. "How's Barton?"

"Both he and Jemma are being worked on by Doctor Hartman herself." The woman pursed her lips. "Banner and Stark are making new and improved hearing aids for him."

"Will they be dropping by?"

"At the hospital yes. They'll be there within the hour."

The two woman immediately noticed when the yelling stopped. Putting the plane on autopilot, both stood up slowly with weapons in hand as the door slowly opened. The sight that greeted them broke their stoic masks.

Barnes was curled into Steve's side, his body shaking as the blond wrapped an arm around his friend's shoulders. Neither noticed their presence, Steve was speaking in comforting, hushed tones in the same foreign tongue as before and Barnes was wearing a thousand-yard stare that reminded May all too eerily of Bahrain…

"They've been through too much." Haunted green eyes lingered on Barnes before settling on Steve.

At that moment, May realized just how young the three of them were. They were supposed to be in the prime of their lives, not living through personal hells that had stripped them of their innocence and broken something in their minds. She rested a hand on Romanov's shoulder, breaking the woman's gaze. May watched eyes harden and face smooth out and for a moment, wondered if that's how she looked to others…

It was safe to say that the short flight to the hospital was silent and when May walked past the two super soldiers, she saw Natasha make her way to Barton's room. She met Phil by the entrance to Jemma's room. She leaned into him as he wrapped a comforting arm around her.

"You okay Melinda?"

She sighed. "I'm tired."

Both agents looked up as the two super soldiers came into the room and Barnes slowly approached Jemma's door, looking to them for permission. His hands were trembling and jaw was clenched tightly. No words were spoken as they stepped aside and watched the man go to Jemma's side, his body going completely still.

"He's afraid," Rogers spoke from behind them. "He doesn't want to hurt her anymore…I had to convince him not to leave as soon as we got word that they were okay."

"That would hurt her more than anything." Phil softly spoke.

"That's what I told him."

May tuned out their conversation and was only slightly startled when the Captain laid a hand on her shoulder. Her dark eyes easily identified the fatigue and sadness in his eyes, noticing a fading bruise beneath his right eye. Even with her impassive expression, he seemed to be trying to read her.

"You alright Agent May?"

"I'm fine Captain Rogers." She replied coolly.

Phil raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he returned to the plane, probably hoping to avoid Stark as long as possible. They would be here in twenty minutes. "Natasha and Bucky…hell, even Coulson won't tell me anything about what's going on. I just want to know what they did to my friend and to your agent." He ran a hand through his hair. "Agent Skye told me to talk to you…"

The others meant well. Barnes didn't want to burden his old friend with his horror. Romanov didn't want to talk about it at all and May knew Coulson and the team didn't want to set the Captain off. Skye knew May wouldn't hold back… "Did you watch his interrogation?"

He shook his head.

She took out a tablet and headset, pulling up the video before setting it in his hands. The next several minutes were hard to watch as the blood slowly drained from his face and he used the wall to keep from sinking to the floor. His expression mirrored the one Barnes had worn on the plane…

He wordlessly handed it back to her, knuckles white as he strode from the hospital.

She looked down at the tablet and noticed the numerous cracks throughout what she thought was almost unbreakable glass. She met Barnes' gaze when his friend left and held up the tablet in response to his unspoken question.

He nodded before finally taking a seat by Jemma's side. He watched her intently, as though she would fade away if he closed his eyes. The gentleness in which his flesh hand brushed along her cheek spoke volumes.

She finally forced herself to look away.

...

Waking up in a hospital bed was definitely an improvement over a stone floor and chains, the painkillers were a nice touch too… He could hardly feel the pounding in his head or the stitches in his stomach and shoulder. Still couldn't hear either...damn.

Tasha was curled in a chair at his side, a hand loosely holding his. The peaceful expression on her face told him that she was well and truly asleep. She was still wearing her combat leathers, but had put her arm back in its sling and washed the blood off her. There was a bruise on her jaw and Clint almost felt pity for the man who had managed to get a hit on her…Almost.

He squeezed her hand gently.

She awoke instantly, a smile curling her lips as she tapped out words in Morse code on his palm. _How are you feeling?_

He grimaced as he shifted his weight. _Been worse._

 _Stark has your hearing aids._

 _Wasn't the torture enough?_

Her grip tightened. _Behave._

 _Not the person you should be telling that to._

She rolled her eyes and got to her feet as the man in question walked through the door, Banner shadowing him. She let go of his hand to meet them.

Stark's mouth was moving way too fast for him to get a good read so Clint turned his head to face Bruce.

Huh,…there is an upside to being deaf, Clint thought.

 _How are you?_ Bruce signed.

"I'm good doc…not the first time I've been stabbed."

Tasha smacked him upside the head.

"Jesus Tasha…I have a concussion!" He exclaimed, earning himself another smack. "You're a violent woman you know that?"

She smirked.

Bruce shook his head at their antics, removing the small devices from a black case he'd set at the end of the bed and holding them out in a silent question.

Clint waved him ahead. The meds weren't allowing the steady hands he needed to put this new and advanced technology in his ears. He trusted Bruce and while his hands weren't steady, he managed to keep his body still while Bruce put the devices in.

There was a high pitched whine before sound began to filter in at a low level.

"In about an hour, you should hear everything at a normal volume," Bruce spoke loud enough for him to hear. "Everything working?"

Clint nodded. "Thank you, Bruce…and Tony."

"No problem Legolas." Tony genuinely smiled back before he turned to speak to Bruce at a normal level and became inaudible to Clint. Both left the room.

"How's Jemma?" He asked Tasha.

"Still in a drug-induced sleep." She returned to the chair. "Barnes is with her now."

"How is he?" Clint could sympathize with Barnes…at least on the mind-controlled-by-madmen front. Clint knew what was more than having no control of your own body...to being forced to kill those who were your friends. It more than just the brainwashing though...he had also been an unwilling volunteer for the medical and technological experimentation done to his body as well. He hadn't actually met the man himself since Cap thought it his duty to guard his old friend 24/7, but just by watching Tasha's facial expression shift whenever he was mentioned brought to mind many years ago when she spoke of the institution that made her the Black Widow. Those two shared a past...

"He hates himself for what happened." Shadows crept into her eyes. "Blames himself."

Clint squeezed her hand to pull her away from her own dark thoughts. "This was a personal vendetta that had nothing to do with him. Ward had a target on that team before Barnes even met Jemma."

"She was made an easy target because of him Clint. That's what he blames himself for." Tasha ran a cataloging gaze down his body. "If I had just checked in…"

"Stop it, Tasha. There's nothing to be done now. Jemma and I will both heal."

"Jemma killed Ward Clint… shot him right between the eyes." She pursed her lips. "This is the second death on her hands since Volkov took her. She won't heal from that…not for a long time."

While Clint tried to think of a response, Tasha was already on her feet and opening the door, revealing the man they'd been discussing. He could pick up parts of their conversation as his hearing aids adjusted themselves slightly, but quickly realized they were speaking in Russian. If he could hear everything, he could understand the conversation well but with pieces missing he was lost…

Barnes was solidly built and a few inches shorter than Cap with dark hair that was pulled back at the nape of his neck. Even in civilian clothing, Clint knew he had, at least, two weapons on his person. He emitted an aura similar to that of Tasha that told those near him to stay out of his way on the pain of death and his eyes...they were a dark blue similar to Cap's oddly enough, but there was something broken in them. Something shadowy and haunted like Tasha's. Clint noticed that his left side was heavier and his weight was positioned more on the right as though to even himself out. Must've been the arm… The leather glove he wore on his left hand obscured the metal.

Clint pulled himself into a sitting position as Tasha left, ignoring the dull pain of the stitches. He watched Barnes move to stand at the foot of his bed with grace borne from years of training. He waited patiently for the man to speak, accustomed to the silence. While waiting, he listened as the monitors became louder.

Barnes' lips tightened into a thin line, but he still didn't say anything.

The silence stretched for nearly a half hour, both the pain and hearing steadily returning to Clint. His hear was almost completely back to normal, but this current round of pain medication was slowly wearing off. He was trying not to show discomfort, but the stitches and cracked ribs were making it difficult to breathe. Doctor Hartman opened the door to check on him and wasn't surprised to find Barnes watching her.

"Can you give us a few minutes?" Clint kept the pain from his voice as he addressed Hartman.

She was skeptical. "Your pain meds must be wearing off."

"A few minutes please?"

She sighed. "Fine. I'll be back in five minutes."

In was another minute after the door closed before Barnes spoke. "I…I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for? You didn't do this to me." He pulled in a small breath, as much as he could with the ribs. "Despite what you think…not all of this is your fault." He didn't bother trying to say otherwise. Like Tasha, Barnes was a cynical and pragmatic person. There were some angles he just couldn't argue.

"You almost sound like Steve." "I'm not _that_ optimistic." He sighed. "Is there anything else you wanted to tell me?"

"I want to…I want to thank you."

"Thank me? For what?"

"I know you took the brunt of the torture for her." His left hand flexed. "I want to thank you for that…you saved her."

"No problem Barnes. Now go back to Jemma."


	27. Home

Jemma was really tired of waking up in hospital rooms, but the sight that greeted her was worth it.

James' head rested on her arm, his expression the calmest she'd ever seen it.

She didn't dare move her arm in fear of waking him from what was clearly a peaceful sleep. Instead, she reached up with her free hand and carded her fingers through his soft dark hair. "Thank you for coming back for me…thank you for saving me."

He leaned into her touch, surprising her as he turned to kiss her palm. "I will always come for you...Always."

She brought his lips to hers in a deep kiss, ignoring the stiffness in her body as she wrapped her arms around his neck. The warmth of his lips, his hands was like coming home. He would never let anything happen to her. The urge to breathe pulled her away and she smiled up at him, running her thumb along his lips. "I love you."

He leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. "You shouldn't love me."

She kissed him softly. "That's too bad James…you're stuck with me."

"Why though? I've hurt you so many times…you should hate me." He went to pull away.

"Don't tell me how I should feel James." She tightened her hold, tears burning her eyes. "We've been through too much just for you to push me away…I could never hate a man who's sacrificed so much for me. I love you, James…I will always love you."

He brushed her tears away. "Don't waste your tears on me."

"You're worth it James."

He pulled away and she finally noticed he was still donned in his tactical gear he'd worn when he rescued her. There were shadows under his eyes that told her that he probably hadn't slept since then. "If the lady says so."

She could see through that charming smile. He didn't fully believe what she was telling him. What could she do to make him see that? Why couldn't he see that he was worth everything she'd been through, that he was worth her blood, sweat, and tears?

"Am I interrupting?"

"Clint you're okay!"

The archer was leaning heavily against the doorframe, an IV stand clenched tightly in his other hand. "Okay's a relative term."

"Are you supposed to be out of bed?"

"Don't worry about me…I have my own assassin hovering over-ow!"

Said assassin had smacked the back of his head with an amused look. Natasha smiled at them both as Clint muttered something under his breath. How could she still look threatening in a gray hoodie and running pants? "How are you feeling Jemma?"

"Good…pain killers take away the worst of it."

"That's what I'm telling you, Tasha…the painkillers make me feel good as- ow! Okay, okay, I'll go back to bed. Sheesh…violent woman."

James snorted, but his expression sobered when he met the redhead's eyes. He said something to her (in Russian, of course), his eyes were sad as she left.

"James…What's going on?"

"I'm leaving."

Her voice was caught in her throat. After all she had told him, he was still leaving… Was she not good enough?

"I'll be back Jemma." He read her worries easily. "I'm coming back."

"Why are you leaving?"

"Hydra won't give me up so easily Jemma. I have to make sure they can never hurt you or anyone else again. The rest of the Avengers agree. We'll be leaving soon."

"When are you coming back?"

"I don't know…" His expression was pained. "A couple weeks…maybe months."

"James…" Tears were streaming down her cheeks. "I just got you back…"

He cradled her head in his hands, his forehead pressed against hers. "No matter how long it takes…I will come back to you Jemma."

"Promise?"

"I promise." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I promise I'll come back."

She was silent as she watched him leave, every step away from her an ache in her chest. When Skye came in minutes later, those dark eyes were full of understanding as she held her distraught friend in her arms. If anyone felt the small tremors that shook the ground, they said nothing…

…

FOUR MONTHS LATER

She couldn't help but replay his promise over and over again in her head as Jemma stared at the scars on her chest and stomach, running her fingers along the shiny skin. Her patience was starting to run thin…

"Ready Jemma?" Skye's voice came from the other side of her chamber's doors.

"Yeah Skye, just give me a second." Jemma pulled the tank top over her head.

It had taken nearly two months of therapy and rest to fully recover enough to start her training. She knew her knowledge was the reason that she'd been accepted into S.H.I.E.L.D., but she was tired of having to be rescued (even by James…) and Skye was eager to have someone to spar with besides May and Bobbi.

She'd come close to beating Skye a couple of times, an accomplishment in itself considering the first time they sparred didn't even last thirty seconds. It felt good to be able to fight, to protect herself.

Quickly putting on her shoes, she joined Skye on the way to the training room. She was practically bouncing on her feet, despite that fact that it was nearly six in the morning. Well, she'd always been a morning person…

"You are way too happy this early in the morning."

"You're up too."

"I needed two cups of coffee before I came to get you." Skye pushed open the door. "And since you have so much excess energy, you can start off on the punching bag." Jemma wrapped her hands and began with simple combinations. Her thoughts drifted as her muscle memory took over, her anger from not only the length of his absence, the lack of any word from him fueling her hits.

A hand fell on her shoulder. "Jemma…"

Without pausing, Jemma swung.

Skye dodged her fist easily. "Jemma, you need to relax."

"How can I calm down?!" Jemma's voice rose. "Nobody's heard from him since he left…it's been four months. Four _bloody_ months! I just want to know if he's okay." Tears made tracks down her cheeks. "I _need_ to know…"

"He promised to come back to you Jemma," Skye put another gentle hand on her shoulder. "I don't see him as a man who would break such a promise."

Jemma wiped the tears from her eyes and resumed her combinations on the punching bag, her hits still fueled with anger. She was relieved when Skye didn't pry…relieved that her friend wasn't walking on eggshells around her like everyone else had been since that day.

Their ninety-minute workout went uninterrupted and James wasn't brought up again as Jemma made her way back to her quarters, watching Skye and Fitz twine their hands together before she shut the door behind her.

She stripped quickly and turned on the hot water, ignoring the small stab of envy. Skye had Fitz here, had him next to her and knew where he was. James might as well be dead for as much as she'd heard of him since he left. But he wasn't dead…someone would've told her…

Pulling her ratty hair from its ponytail, she stepped under the scalding liquid. The temperature eased her tight muscles and tired mind, washing the physical aches down the drain. She scrubbed herself clean and washed her hair, which had almost returned to its natural color.

 _"You know…I've always preferred brunettes."_

 _Her heart rate increased at his nearness and she forced herself not to react as she caught the scent of aftershave, metal, and leather. How could she still smell leather? He's not even wearing leather…"Then…uh why not have me go darker?"_

 _"I don't know…" He dropped her hair but didn't move away. "You'd look great either way though. I think it's the eyes…they change."_

She pulled herself out of the memory as she stepped out of the shower and towel dried her hair before using the same towel to wrap around herself. Thinking about him wouldn't help her erratic emotions at the moment.

After pulling on her undergarments and trousers, she searched for the button up that she'd laid out last night, but couldn't find it and wondered if Skye had moved it. Her friend had been doing things like that over the last month or so, trying to lighten her mood. It worked on occasion, but right now it was just an irritation. She needed to go to the lab, to drown herself in her work so she could ignore her hollow chest.

Finally finding it underneath a pillow, she shrugged it on and was about to start buttoning it up when she heard the unmistakable sound of her door sliding open. "I'll be there in a second Skye…"

"Jemma?"

She froze, her now shaking hands refusing to work. She turned around, tears already falling down her cheeks as she laid eyes on the man who been the cause of many sleepless nights. Her anger at him disappeared the second she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest. "You came back…"

He pulled back, cupping her face in his hands and brushing away the tears. "I told you I would…I promised I would Jemma."

"I didn't hear anything from you…I thought you might've been-"

His kiss silenced her worry, his metal hand settling on the bare skin her lower back while the other tangled in her damp hair. His warmth, his scent was surrounding her... He lifted her up with ease, his hands now cupping the back of her thighs as her hands now wrapped around his neck, her nails scraping along his scalp. He pulled back just enough to whisper against her mouth, blue eyes nearly black. "Nothing would keep me from you Jemma…nothing."

"I love you, James." She whispered back, a smile curling her lips, one of the first since he left. She rested her forehead against his and closed her eyes, concentrating on his chest pressed up to hers, on the stubble light scratching her cheek. This wasn't a dream, he was really here… "I love you so much."

"I love you too." He set her back down on her feet and pulled her into an embrace. "I will love you as long as I am breathing."

She returned to hug, the last four months of pain and worry and anger fading which each moment she spent in his arms. Finally, everything was at peace. Finally,…she was home.


End file.
